Animal Magnetism
by TheLions'PaleProtector
Summary: Creature!Fic. Complete. When an attack leaves Hermione less than human, her entire world gets turned upside down. The worst part? An irrepressible need to mate... With Snape. Which side will win, instincts or fear? What will Snape do? HGSS
1. Chapter 1

**Animal Magnetism**

**Summary:** Creature!Fic. When an accident leaves Hermione less than human, her entire world gets turned upside down. The worst part? An irrepressible need to mate... With Snape. Which side will win, instincts or fear driven by years of torment? What will Snape do? Warnings, slightly non-canon [then, so is the pairing] and brief mention of some character deaths. Dumbledore is still alive. Lots of graphic sex scenes after the first few chapters. 21 chapters done and still typing.

**Pairings: **some Harry/Hermione, but mainly Hermione/Severus

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

**Chapter 1**

Everyday the papers just brought more news of death and destruction throughout Great Britain and its' neighboring countries. It seemed like all they had to report lately. A gloom had settled over Europe and seemed there to stay. Even with the Ministry of Magic's heavy hand censoring the media and trying to pretend everything was either fine or in the process, outside source information was enough to keep people talking [and thus panicking]. With Voldemort making his presence known in both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds now, nothing and nowhere was safe. Except maybe Hogwarts. The increased bombings and slayings of late spring and early summer had people in desperate straits and most came back early.

Even if the survivors had another place to go, parents and guardians tearfully forced them back out of concern. Though some older students [like Ron Weasley] had tried refusing, prepared to stand by their families in this time of crisis, there wasn't much choice. His home, like many others', had been shelled out and his parents already lost two sons. The rest just plowed bravely on. Ron… Just the mention of his name was enough to bring tears to Hermione Grangers' eyes. After being 'M.I.A' for a little over three weeks post-battle, [and thank Merlin they even found him that fast] one of the Order members managed to track him to the basement hideout of a senior Death Eater. Where he'd apparently been kept drained of magic and in a near-comatose state, regularly starved and beaten.

In the two weeks since his rescue he was still incredibly weak [pale, magically deprived, etc], and quieter than anyone had ever known him. Even after his throat had been healed too, torn and bleeding from months of tortured screams, he didn't say more than a few words at a time… especially about his captivity. And it hurt to see her friend and one time lover in such sad condition, the empty eyes and broken body, then knowing as well there was nothing she could do… Wiping the rivulets of tears from her cheeks, Hermione shut her books of charms with a loud thud and slid it across the worn table, rubbing red eyes warily. There'd been so very many tears lately- from all of them. So much sadness and pain… Certainly more than any one person should bear alone.

It's aged everyone terribly. The ''Chosen One'' more than most. In typical Harry fashion, he blamed himself for everything that happened because of Voldemort, cursing his supposed weakness for not having been able to kill him before this. It didn't matter he'd been only one person, that he'd been just a kid before [and in truth could still be considered one in age]. He'd changed so much just in the last few months, worse than any prior changes. He'd become a virtual stranger- more so after they'd found Ron. In a way it was harder than when Remus had been killed, another father figure and his last link to his parents. The boy… man… had withdrawn, physically and mentally, from everyone and while Hermione knew it was partly out of grief and his extra training…

She also knew a large part was that he thought his distance would keep them alive. It broke what was left of her heart. His stupid determination to 'save the world' all by himself. He was working himself close unto death in 'preparation' of facing the Scourge. Over the summer Harry had shot up to about 6'0'', almost as tall as Ron and Malfoy, and had packed on a lot of muscle- but he was still [and likely always would be] on the thin side. Especially as he very rarely seemed to sleep or eat anymore- well, or do much besides research spells/hexes and fight. Nobody knew how he kept from collapsing on a day to day basis or what he ran on outside pure will and vengeance.

Hermione put her face in her hands, trembling with emotion. Harry… with his gaunt, ghostly hued face and dark burning eyes that about swallowed it whole, always so harsh and unfocused… And Ron, tortured and just as reserved, his broad framed laces with ghastly scars, and his once ready smile gone, and dull cinnamon eyes filled with untold pain… what had happened to her small family? Silly question. Tom Marvolo Riddle. The former Gryffindor Head Girl sniffed and brushed her hair back, drying her damp, wan face. Air. She needed air. Desperately. With another sniffle, she gathered herself internally, threw her heavy book bag over her left shoulder, and parted the library for the grounds.

And she sighed, aching from lack of sleep and too much stress. It was supposed to be their 8th year- their 'greatest year ever' as some had said. Then spring had come. To think she used to spend every spare moment reading and researching for fun. But then, even last winter seemed like a different age. What had she been thinking? So much time wasted. And where had her smarts gotten her? No further than anyone else. Nothing to show for it, besides a few marks on a piece of parchment. Why had it all seemed so important then? What had she been trying to prove? To who? None of that mattered now. And she thought she'd known what constant nervous tension was, the witch scoffed. She'd had no clue.

She felt several decades older just since then. Now… it was almost all she could do to just stick with it. But Harry still needed her. Despite his unnaturally ripe new desire to be all independent and 'go it alone,' he still needed her. At least to gather information- formulating spells/hexes, potions, plans for action or defense. Though he'd been getting eerily good at the first two lately, and Ron, for lack of all else, had been a brilliant strategist… Would be again if he could get past this tragedy. But her mind shied away from those facts. It's all the help she could get him to accept. And she couldn't speak for them all, but she'd be there whether he liked it or not. 'Stubborn fool,' she thought. Her eyes flashed. 'He could run off in the dark to fight, but I'd find him… I always do. He won't fight old Voldie alone.'

Hermione's arms wrapped around her lean, deceptively fragile-looking frame, in a world of her own. The chill, born of the soul not of the wind, would never fade, but small comforts could go a long way. Even if she _had _changed, she'd always been a strongly opinionated person, a 'pushy, mother hen type,' as Ron once liked to call her. But she took it in stride, like everything else, with a wry quirk of lips. Or tired to. But this year had added a band of steal to her core like she'd never known- made her strong and fierce. Forged in the fires of hell, ever last one of them. Survivors, ragged but true. Like her parents were. Before Voldemort had them ripped to pieces in front of her. Another tear rolled down her cheek in remembrance and she hurriedly dashed it away, and paused to look at her hand in the moonlight.

Long, thin, pale like the rest of her. How she's changed… Even her parents wouldn't recognize her. But it wasn't all bad. She'd filled out more in the last eighteen months. Even added some muscle. Her teeth had been fixed since last year too- what hadn't shifted naturally was finally changed with a spell like Harry's poor eyesight. Her hair, while still frizz-prone [how she hated the word bushy] always worn in a clever up-do to hide it. Out of the way. She was vainly proud of even that much. She didn't know why those still stuck out at her so badly, still hurt her- all Snape's snide comments over the years. Her meditative state was broken as a shrill scream perforated the silence of the night, and her big, too serious coffee-colored eyes were suddenly shot with panic.

Her first thought was that it was another Death Eater attack. Then, as that high-pitched noise was all she heard, her second thought as she relaxed was that it was just an animal. Then it sounded again, long and tortured and way too human. "Somebody help! Please!" And Hermione, perhaps foolishly, jolted into action. The losses of that year were too fresh on her mind and she couldn't run back inside and potentially cause another one because of the delay. 'Where…?' she thought with frustration, running. "Anyone! Here!" Re-directing herself at the faint call, she headed rapidly towards the forest… by Black Lake, where it was coming from.

Nothing else entered into her mind but that she had to help this person, who sounded like a child in trouble. And she prayed that she could save them. Out of breath, the witch reached the shore- in time to see a shadowed figure trapped and bleeding on the island… just above a thicket of thorny Snapper vines, which could tear a person to pieces as quick as a hungry piranha as the vines dragged you deeper under. Oh Lord. "Text books… text books… damn, you! Remember…" she muttered, desperately looking for another way across the water and up the cliff-face. "Screw it! No time!"

She tossed aside her book bag and outer robes, casting something close to a stasis spell from a distance in attempts to stop the pods as she waded through the first layer of muck around the shoreline. Then, as she fought with herself on the proper course of action and decided to try and swim out, she cast again to blast away some of the thick growth and shield herself from whatever lay in the brackish gray water. It looked like a first year, she noted as she sped up her strokes, examining the elevated rocky formation she'd potentially have to climb. "How the hell…" Hermione wondered aloud as she sought purchase on the miniature island. "Please… I'm so cold," the girl sobbed again. Steeling herself again as the craggy surface bit into her flesh, she panted, "So close…"

Blood dripped down from the long scratches and she was getting light-headed. She almost wished she'd thought to use a levitating charm, but it was dark and who knows what she could've come across- receiving a better view as she scanned it manually and then not having her hands free as she discovered it was safe. Finally, though, she reached her target after what seemed like a small eternity. "There, there…. It's okay… I gotcha. You're safe now." as the child started sliding on the rock with a panicked yet almost hopeless look, Hermione leapt to grab her despite twisting an ankle in the process. But she saw the young girl shake her head and say in a tinny voice, "No… we're not… None of you are safe." As her words registered, the last ending in a dark tone, shock played on the older one's face.

"What-" She barely got out when the 'child' grabbed her back, nails turned into talons digging in and blood gushing out as they tore through her, mingling with the would-be victim's. Merely keeping contact was like shredding her own flesh and she fought it but found it impossible to escape, especially if she wanted to keep her arms, and it followed with an agonizing itching under her very skin. She was suffused by the pain as whatever it was spread through her system like a virus. One with a paralyzing agent. Simultaneously, the child's visage changed, aging to even seem a few years more than Hermione's eighteen, fangs transforming the mouth, making her look even crueler.

"Nobody is safe," the words came out guttural and biting, and Hermione's whole body seemed to light up like a hydrogen bomb. Hot… So very hot… She was surprised her flesh wasn't starting to melt away. Head spinning, she only half-noticed as her body started to slip too… the talons climbing higher as if using her for a ladder, bringing more poison with them. "But I really ought to thank you… I was getting awfully hungry, and this body just isn't what it used to be…" Then those fangs sank into her, and all she saw was darkness beyond the rock in her flickering vision… cold laughter following her as she fell and fell and fell…

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A/N: There's definitely more to come, so stay tuned! And don't forget to review! It might make me post updates faster… lol.

Next Chapter: "She was too hard-headed to die. Right? How he hated the doubt that crept in as he reached to release the straps the cut into her tender wrists and give her a calming draught in attempts to ease her. Yes, she would make it. She had to. People needed her. _Her friends_ needed her."


	2. Chapter 2

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

It was night; and though he did have excellent vision in the darkness, even he was nearly blinded. He cursed the luck that'd had him appointed as one of that nights' scouts, sent to search the castle grounds. True, there had been trouble before, but honestly, as if any of the Scourges' army would dare go near Hogwarts now- they knew better after any who tried turned up dead. The "Chosen One" was on a rampage; hungry for the blood of his enemies… those who had dared hunt those under his protection and harm the innocents of his realm.

The dark-haired wizard scoffed aloud at the mere imagery. True, he wouldn't try to go up against the boy himself, as solitary and harsh as his existence was, he cherished it- but he laughed at the quivering cowards he served with. Lost in his own musings, the usually observant double agent almost missed the odd thumping noises and rustling in the bush- much less the only vaguely personable outline across the water. But thankfully the snap of a twig under foot had already snapped him out of it, just long enough to notice. There was something out there alright. Only the usual miscreant creatures [like the centaurs and lesser animals] in the forests, but definitely something human-like on the island.

What they were up to he didn't know- but though he'd seen a flicker of movement when he first looked up, there was nothing now. And that squid was still on the loose. It didn't look good. Yet he instinctively believed that the target was not dead… it just half-skidded into the water. So after hesitantly making his way to the shore, knowing he was likely being a complete idiot yet somehow unable to help himself [the old man's cursed influence, he was sure] he made a dive. And he came up triumphant… an obviously female heavy-laden sweater. Dragging it along with him, he swam hurriedly towards shore, never knowing when something might be on his tail.

So he misdirected his strokes, weaving side to side to try and dissuade the creature, then as came to his feet, he waded through the muck to run the rest of the way in. His sodden cotton shirt was plastered to his chest; his wool pants felt even worse. But he forgot his discomfort and made his way to the shore. Up ahead, he could see a shadow rising from the water. The squid, bursting out of the blackness of the night and the water. Shit. In the spit of san between large tree roots and shore, he raced to beat the creature before it could do further damage. Throwing himself at it with a burst of speed, intending to bring the long tentacle down away from the broken girl and secure it so he could recover his wand.

The catapulted weight of his body thankfully forced it down and he pulled a quick trick with one of the tree roots to ground it easily enough. Soaked with water and sand, he found his balance and rolled to grab the fallen wand, casting a sleeping spell. Merlin only knows why Dumbledore and Hagrid were strangely protective of this thing, but they were- and would be upset if he killed it. Breathing coming a little faster than it had before, he made his way back to the young witch. The moon's light was abundant as it broke away from the clouds and he distanced them from the dreaded Lake. Even with soaked hair tangled in seaweed and lashed about her face, she seemed exotically beautiful.

Neither night nor water could completely dim the shimmering gold of her hair, and the moonlight only helped illuminate the unique color of her eyes, a hazel so fused that the color was not green at all, not brown, but nearly as gold as her hair. Her lashes and brows darkened to honey. Her face was delicately, artistically formed with a small, straight nose, elegantly high cheekbones, a stubbornly square chin, and a beautifully shaped, generous mouth. She was startlingly pale, probably from all the loss of blood [he deduced from the many cuts and scrapes], the lips held in a thin, grim line a mixture of white from pain and tension, then blue from the cold. He drew back as the face suddenly registered. It was Hermione Granger, best friend of one Harry Potter.

* * *

Consciousness was a pinprick of light that expanded around her, painstakingly slow. Disorientation was immediate. Hermione quickly wished for the nothingness back when comprehension hit. She was falling. Deeper and deeper into the Unknown. And something out of this strange ether told her she didn't want to reach the bottom. Something was waiting for her. Something dark. Wicked. Evil, perhaps. But why was she falling? Did her bold rescuer drop her? Why would he do such a thing after braving the treacherous waters of Black Lake for her? Was there another attack? Did they hit a snag? Her brow would've wrinkled if she were corporeal.

Questions swamped her, more when suddenly her free fall through darkness became what felt like a drop into a gelatinous substance, like breaking through the surface of the lake just to sink through the cool mud to whatever lie beneath. Only she knew somehow she wasn't in the lake anymore. The black clouds that had engulfed her had, for one shining moment, parted as she was pulled from the murky depths- enough to be imprinted with the feel of a hundred ton weight on her chest.

Sodden and struggling for breath with dots dancing before her eyes, she peered through them to see an avenging angel strangely resembling the dour potions master. Who she knew would strangle whatever life remained from her chilled corpse before thinking to save her. What odd dimension had she crossed into where the 'angels' looked like Snape? But as oblivion claimed her once more, Hermione decided she didn't want to know. It would be too terrifying. Confusing. Despite the whispers of safety and comfort that touched her. Snape in a rescuer's role? Her water-logged brain must've been thrown so roughly into shock that she'd entered an imaginary state where reality blended with warped fantasy, and hallucinations cushioned her with a false impression of familiarity and pleasantness.

Yes, that was it. Already tired from the strain of having to think after such trauma, she allowed herself to be placated by the sweet thought of delusions. So tired she was that regardless of the horror she knew lie ahead, she was tempted to relax fully into the buffet of air that cradled her. 'No, it's a lie! The comfort is a lie! A false sense of security to lull you into complacency so that unnamed _thing_ could overtake you!' But she felt so heavy… Just the energy to remain alert, body tensed in anticipation of disaster, was a little too much. 'No! Fight!' Her fear became a living, breathing thing that threw her into a full blown panic, and it startled her enough her whole body jerked spasmodically.

Flailing, she realized she was only falling faster now, from viscosity to fluidity in seconds, which made her tense up even more… and compounded the pain felt in smashing into the rocky ground. The complete white-out associated with blinding pain engulfed her, nerve-endings screaming as if being shredded into microscopic pieces. She didn't move for fear of making it worse, desperately clutching a boulder to her right as if it could save her from drowning in this sea of agony. A small eternity lapsed before it eased enough that her eyes re-focused and could see again, another before she could drag herself to her feet without howling.

When she did, some of the fear transferred into confusion at the dry, barren landscape that looked like a desert. A temperature that had to be in the 90's, the parched, cracked earth, lava trickling from the ground… Dread clutched her heart like an iron glove. Was she dead? Was this hell?_ "Close enough,"_ a rough, manic sounding voice rasped from the other side of one of those fiery rivers. "_But I can help you…."_ A wavering image appeared to her in the waves of heat that cloaked the place, looking much like herself only taller, leaner, hungrier… The thing the voice had warned her of?

"_All you have to do is come just a little further…"_ the sing-song tone was sickeningly [deceptively?] sweet and suddenly felt like nails on a chalkboard to her. Worse was not knowing why this vision frightened her. But it crooked its finger at her in a 'come here' motion. _"This place would devour you, left all alone. You can't make it through alive. But I can."_ Hand held out with a toothy smile, it [she didn't know how else to address this twisted double] stretched towards her as if attempting to pull her across the stream of molten rock. The expanse of red desert lay behind it, wavering. Was this her only way out? She looked at the image and then at the barren landscape around her. Did she really want to stay here in what appeared to be Hell and try to find her own way out?

Hesitantly she stepped forward- only the hand outstretched unexpectedly grew claws. Trepidation had her heart beating so fast and hard she was sure it was going to burst from her chest, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. _"Aw, don't let this little ol' thing scare you. Come on, come to me. It won't seem so bad after a while. You want out, right?" _The monstrous being continued to smile, wiggling its fingers in invitation. Fangs glinted in the light, but it was gone so quickly she wasn't sure if she'd imagined it. Not wanting to take chances, she stumbled back, wide-eyed… and tripped, falling into a huge wall of boulders. Trapped. Literally between a rock and a hard place. Or rather, a rock and demonic-looking doppelganger. Oh sweet Merlin.

* * *

Her friends and guardians looked on helplessly, incapable of helping any further than washing the blood from her and trying to get in some potions by transfusion. Hence they left, unable to watch her suffer without breaking down again themselves. And so her shadow came in. He wasn't afraid of the others seeing him, the thought of him being afraid of such a simple little thing was laughable, but then, so was the fact he was there. Where he probably wouldn't be welcome, by either them or by the comatose young woman on the bed. Yet he didn't allow himself to be held back by that fact, which confused him. So he mentally shrugged it off and took it a step further by sitting down next to the bed.

He'd watched her grow over the years-from a somewhat insolent [annoying] yet joyful child to an increasingly bold [and still annoying] teen whose endless curiosity was both frustrating and fascinating. Her intelligence… 'Grades,' he corrected himself, were incomparable to her insipid classmates- just tempered by what seemed to be an inability to think for herself. Thus, quoting the textbooks word for word. It seemed clear to him, and he mocked her for it, but more than that he couldn't help but want [deep down] her to push past that. Become better. Stronger. The quiet man backpedaled in his head. He hated to see potential wasted. Fiercely hated. Hated to see people take advantage of the gifts they'd been given, or blindly follow what was considered 'normal' or 'good' and reject all else.

But even more hated those who blindly took what was handed to them without question. It was foolish and got people killed. Not mention created a hot bed of unimaginative thought and laziness. He hadn't wanted to see that happen to her, as insufferable as she could be. He told himself it was his teachers' instincts prompting such treatment. Yet… He shook his head. No, nothing else. How could he compare a silly, troublesome Gryffindor to himself as a youth? Impossible. He was harder on her simply because even the very thought of her offended him. So why was he here? It was like some part of him felt responsible for he just because he'd pulled her out of that lake. A scornfully Gryffindor-ish thing to do, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

There would be no waste, surely. She was too hard-headed to die. Right? How he hated the doubt that crept in as he reached to release the straps the cut into her tender wrists and give her a calming draught in attempts to ease her. Yes, she would make it. She had to. People needed her. _Her friends_ needed her. Despite the fact she'd sorely been used. 'Yet, as they came into their own through these hard times, would her purpose remain?' he wondered. She'd always seemed to pride herself on the fact her brilliance saved them from disaster time and again, as much as it taxed her. Though the answer was clear. She simply had to find a new one. Re-direct her energies. In her slumberous state her body jerked and she whimpered. Inexplicably he took her hand, whispering to her. "Don't worry, I am here."

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A/N" Don't forget to review!

Next Chapter: The air was smokier here. Hotter. So hot, in fact, that the sheen of sweat spread up her arms, her neck, even her face. Beads formed, and those beads began trickling down her temples, blurring her vision. "Sir," she whimpered, nearing panic again. "Severus," he murmured smoothly. "I'm here."


	3. Chapter 3

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"Hurry, take my hand!" a deep, oddly familiar voice called out from the void. With both anxiety and relief on her face, she spun around… to see a tall, lean figure cloaked in darkness. The flames that danced over and around the stony surface highlighted but otherwise didn't touch the shade as she peered around it. "I know a way out!" Breathless and shaking with her fear, she skated around one a skeletal tree, precariously close to the magma. Another offer of help, another promise of escape with an underlying falsity? Another fiend who seemed to want to swallow her whole? Why else would he hide in shadow, unless this was thinly veiled trickery? The silhouette reformed to show urgency and perhaps a tinge of impatience.

Shining out from the gloom of the backdrop that seemed to wrap around him like a shield were two coal-black eyes alight with an inner fire… and a mouth that seemed prone to cruelty but instead softened into an appearance of determination and concern. She must've been delusional indeed, or winded by the dry heat, because recognition was blooming inside her. As if she knew this fiend. "Take my hand!" The demanding voice vibrated in the air between them, a voice used to being obeyed she was sure, and she gasped as something struck her. Something meant to taunt, to further inspire fear? Was there any other explanation to this similarity to Snape?

Her potential champion [destroyer?] leaned away from the rock to reach out to her and she caught a hint of a lean but muscled frame. Not unlike the dungeon bat himself. She swallowed heavily, more unsure than ever of this _thing _professing good intentions. "There's not much time, Hermione. You stay here longer and you'll die for sure!" Would a demon from Hell [where she was suspecting she was] know her? And surely the real Snape, the one who hated her not the apparition pulling her from the lake, would never use her given name. So what did that make him? An angel? Ridiculous, they didn't exist in Hell. But what she saw didn't _look _evil, like that other thing. Of course, would an enemy in disguise really don one of wickedness and try to kill her outright?

But glancing back at the creature across the way sealed her decision. She took his hand. "Wise choice. We're going to need every second we can get and too many slipped by already." She shot him a glare but his head was turned so he missed it, instead moving aside a thin slab to reveal a slip just big enough for them to get through. "It's warded on this side, but if I try to make it bigger demons from behind it could get though. Think you can make it?" She nodded. "Good girl. This way. There's no ledge to stand on so you have to make sure to hold onto the boulder and work our way down." At her alarmed look, as if knowing her thoughts, he gently explained that this dimension had been created especially for demons and other such characters and as such there'd be no way to make it upwards.

The only path led them lower through the perilous depths, where a soul-gate lay. Swallowing heavily, she stared. Dare she trust this stranger? Did she have any other choice? No. she followed. Instantly flames and scaled arms reached out. Screams permeated the air. Her rescuer entered first. Safe. She tentatively inched out and held onto the boulder with every bit of her strength as he sealed the opening. Apparently magic didn't work here. And to let go was to freefall into Hell, a fiery pit just waiting to gobble her up. She only had him. 'Palms… sweating…'

Whimpering, she tried to keep her eyes on the cliff-face instead of what lie beneath. "Ready?" Hero, as she decided to term him, insisted, reaching for her. To protect her? Aid her? "Yes." Part of her shivered in expectation of the impending touch- but just before contact be moved behind her then away without even brushing her shirtsleeves. She didn't know whether to be disappointed or glad as she tightened her grip on the wall, balancing her feet as best she could on the rocky protrusion. He still unnerved her, but there was something about his presence that comforted her more. Made her want to trust him. He promised to protect her. He offered a means to get away from the creature pacing the border between here and wherever she'd come from.

His eyes captivated her. 'Completely irrelevant.' She corrected herself. 'So did his mouth, the only other feature clear to her. Such a shame the rest is in shadow.' Must focus. The air was smokier here. Hotter. So hot, in fact, that the sheen of sweat spread up her arms, her neck, even her face. Beads formed, and those beads began trickling down her temples, blurring her vision. "Sir," she whimpered, nearing panic again. "Severus," he murmured smoothly. "I'm here." Severus? Wasn't that Snape's first name? A weird feeling crept over her. She thought she remembered Minerva [as the Headmistress had permitted her to call her] using that name for him once before in concern, though she was usually careful not to around students.

Because why would her rescuer insist on that name if it was? Unless it was purely coincidence. Or she could be wrong. 'Well, he _does _kind of look like the spy, the visible parts. Except less slumped, tired, and cruel. But is this really the time to be arguing semantics. Just call him what he wills!' Hermione chose to listen to the whispers again. In that instant, _he _was climbing over her and positioning himself behind again. The scent of decadent, powerful male enveloped her, oddly calming, chasing away the pungent odor of decay. "Are you alright?" Suddenly she was. "Yes," she whispered, but gods, what had she fallen into? "Move with me. Can you do that?" he asked, watching her carefully.

"Yes. Of course." Could she? Maintaining a firm grip, she tested the theory, using the jagged stones to edge along, ever conscious of the seemingly endless void awaiting her should she lose her balance. Though she was more aware of the male still behind her, caging her in, keeping her steady. She had the odd urge to crowd closer, brush against him and see what it felt like, drink in his strength, but she immediately squelched it. Savior or no, she didn't know this man, and she was in enough of a bind without adding certain temptations. Like the flash of that sharp-toothed look-alike from the plains on a distant ledge. But maybe that was her imagination. Right? She had to believe it was or she'd lose her cool and perhaps slip. Something big was coming, building. Something important loomed ahead.

She had to get…. Somewhere. Out, maybe. But out where? She didn't know, but had to keep moving forward. _He _urged her on. And since he seemed real enough to her and better yet, aligned himself on her side, she was willing to listen. His heat just added to hers and her blood felt close to boiling, but she couldn't bring herself to wish him away. It was not a heat she minded, even amidst the smoldering furnace that was Hell. His was… heady. He stopped, forcing her to do the same., his breath trekking over the back of her neck. "This might be more difficult than I thought it to be." He adjusted his grip, his arm just over her shoulder. "Shift with me, just to the left." A tremor raked her but she obeyed. If she stood on her tiptoes, she could feel his skin though… 'Stop!' she centered her mind again. But evil laughter erupted behind them and they both stiffened. More creatures.

"Leave us." Severus [?] snapped. The laughter increased in volume. Drew closer. "I can't fight them like this and they know it," he muttered, latching onto her waist. She gasped at the contact. He was touching her. He was real. And it felt amazing, wild and intense. But there was no comfort in this embrace as she'd expected. No, instead she experienced a searing, disconcerting arousal. And a burning desire for more. 'Oh god, now what?' "Time to fall, Hermione," he said, either heedless of her thoughts or answering them she didn't know. "No! I mean, I don't think I'm ready," she fretted. He looked into her eyes and she saw flames there, "Trust me. There's no other choice but to let go." And she did. Seeing this, he released the rocks, taking her over the edge with him. They seemed to fall forever.

Her hero retained an iron-edged grip on her, long auburn tresses whipping around them like angry silk ribbons. She didn't scream, but did turn and wind her legs around him, afraid of hitting the ground again and losing sight of the world. "Where does this end?" she whispered with an undercurrent of panic. "Soon," he said. "Don't worry, I have you." Like before, flames kindled all around them, pinpricks of gold in the shuddering darkness. She wasn't sure if it was intentional or not, but he gently rubbed her shoulder, raising little bumps, but her muscles relaxed under his ministrations. Except before, those flames had flicked like snake tongues, licking at her. They didn't now. Because he held her? Were they afraid of him?

For her, he was refreshing ice in this smoldering heat and she clung to it. All the better if it offered more protection. The air was thickening around them, the flames spraying what looked to be molten teardrops. "Hold on tight, don't let your feet touch the floor," he directed. She interpreted it as a sign the end was near. Of either them, or the fall she wasn't sure yet. Until they dropped and he twister aside to shield her from harm as they smacked into the ground with a loud crash. Severus planted his feet as the impact vibrated through him, barely touching her as he took the brunt of it, breath whooshing out. He lay there for a moment, panting, and she unwound herself to check on him.

"Are you alright?" The muted darkness of the pit had given away to bright light, fire illuminating every direction. Hermione hovered over him like the sun, the golden highlights reflecting off the fire's glow. "I am… fine."Her delicate hands wisped over his brow, his jaw, his shoulders, searching for injuries and offering comfort. "No you're not. You're wheezing." She continued smoothing her hands over him, rubbing lightly as he had before, as if to massage away the stiffness and soreness.

The witch heard him sigh and smiled to herself. 'Only because I'm happy to be helping,' she reminded herself. 'I need him to get me through this. I'd be lost on my own. And perhaps already a victim of that awful creature.' She opened her mouth to ask him another question about where they were and how he knew so much when he started speaking again himself. "That's brilliant, but-" He was cut off by a frenzied snarl that echoed through the distance, trailed by more demonic laughter. They had indeed been followed. There was a horde a few yards away, one fiend suddenly separating from the pack. It looked there way. "-it looks like we have company." Popping up, Severus took a concerned Hermione with him and pushed her behind him. "Remember I promised to protect you," he told her.

A minute, perhaps two, and the creature with the fangs and glowing eyes would reach her. Fast as it was, there was still a good distance to cover, the streets of Hell stretching endlessly. She trembled slightly in fear, trying to remind herself she'd faced Voldemort once, so shouldn't be so scared. "I could help?" she offered weakly. A thousand sins resting where the pupils should've been, it looked hungry, and she couldn't hide her reaction as well this time around. He just gave her a look that said she should know better than to think he'd put her at risk. What made this virtual stranger so willing to go to bat for her, so to speak? Whatever it was, she was grateful. A cry of "Mine, mine, mine," rent the air and the creature closed in, faster… almost… there.

Claws raked at Severus as he grabbed his opponent by the neck. Multiple stings erupted on his face, followed by the trickle of warm blood. Flailing arms, kicking legs. Only when her hands were shrugged from his shoulders did he truly begin the battle though. And it was both frightening and captivating watching him move. He tossed the creature to the ground and leapt upon it, knees pinning its shoulders. Four punches, rapid succession, five, six… It bucked, wild and feral. Saliva gleamed on its fangs as curses sprang from its bony mouth. Another punch. Still another. But the pounding only succeeded in subduing it.

The struggling continued, intensified, terror leaping to life on that gaunt face- clear enough for her to see a few feet back. Then her rescuer raised his hand, in it a glowing piece of rock, and struck. The poison imbedded in the brimstone acted swiftly, without mercy, spreading throughout the creature's body and rotting it from the inside out. It screamed and screeched in agony, its struggles becoming writhing spasms. Then the scales began to burn away, smoking, sizzling, leaving only more of that ugly bone. But the bones too disintegrated and black ash soon coated the air, blowing in every direction. Hermione watched him rise on shaky legs. The other, equally hungry looking, demons crowded in.

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Next Chapter: "May I ask you a question, Severus?" He nodded hesitantly. "You may do anything you like with me." Had he meant his words to emerge so sensuously? Surely not. Yet butterflies took flight in her belly anyway. "Are you… do you like me?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

A/N: I didn't get as many reviews as I would've liked the last couple chapters, but here goes the next one...

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**Chapter 4**

Objects swirled around the medical ward dangerously, air thick with energy. And she was in the grips of hell. She could feel every cell in her body as it slowly, excruciatingly died. The only explanation that made sense. Yet she felt so chilled here and now. Freezing. Rivers of ice sloughed through her veins, crackling and sharply breaking, disseminating through her. Her whole body was throbbing and sore- like she'd gone several rounds with an angry hippogriff. Even the rich Egyptian cotton sheets scratched, seeming as corrosive as sandpaper, every inch of her sensitized beyond belief. Painfully so. Something was coming. Something bad. She could feel it. From inside her.

And there was nothing she could do. She was trapped. And on top of it all, it felt like there were tiny needles prickling all over her… And that something under the surface restlessly clawed to get out as she writhed on the bed, powerless to stop whatever was overtaking her. Her lungs struggled for each breath, which came back out in short pants as if hyperventilating, the sounds rattling in her chest. Her throat was torn from screaming, and she thought somewhere in the back of her head this was how Ron must've felt in his captivity. Trapped in his own body and tortured relentlessly by a monstrous hand. Long, tapered nails dug into the mattress beneath her helplessly, bound by the wrists to [likely] stop her from hurting herself further.

She already, most alarmingly, bled from her pores- though they had found no marks on her when she was brought in from the Lake. Her eyelids fluttered wildly as she fought to free herself from this nightmare and wake up. Her life depended on it, she was sure. Otherwise she would be lost to the fanged demons that haunted her fevered, coma-induced visions. Suddenly her stomach clenched with agonizing pain and the sensation radiated upwards until it felt like something exploded inside her, making her arch off the bed. Her body strained, muscles locked and eyes wide and unseeing. A long, inhuman howl erupted from her, echoing through Hogwarts itself. 'We're in danger.'

The thought echoed from inside her, confusing her. But she didn't question it. Just fought the shadows and the languor as hard as she could. Needed to get up. Needed to help. Needed- "Easy," that silky, sweetly familiar voice murmured in her ear. "I got you. You're safe I won't let anything hurt you." A hand took hers again, pressing warmth into her, making her feel secure, powerful. Yes, he was there now. He'd save her as before. She relaxed. Then the objects that had been orbiting the small bed suddenly fell to the ground and she went limp, dropping back onto the mattress. And she was lost to the world again, mind unreachable.

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"You are next," he shouted to the others, brandishing his weapon. Surprisingly they quickly scampered away. How long would they stay gone though? She wondered. They should move on. Instead she continued to stare, wide eyes brimming with something akin to admiration. And gratitude. He'd saved her life yet again. "Come here." She crooked her finger. He hesitated so she closed the distance herself, then gave him a huge hug, experiencing a jolt and hiding her gasp as she breathed in his scent. Delicious. Smiling, she led him to a rock. "Now sit. Let me take care of you." Sighing as she surveyed the gouges all over him, she tore several strips from her already tattered robe and knelt in front of him. Leaning in, she reached up and mopped the apparent blood from his face with one of the strips of cloth, and hoped she was getting it all from her shadow-man.

His delectable scent filled her nose, a midnight breeze that inexplicably reminded her of her home at Hogwarts. And when her fingers slipped from the cloth to brush his smooth, soft skin, he tensed. But as she maintained a steady, casual rhythm in cleaning the scrapes, he gradually relaxed. A rogue part of her wondered how much more she could get away with now. Shaking herself, she mentally chastised it, and switched her attentions to his right arm as she deemed his face free of the red stain. Concentrated on her task to keep from thinking about other things, she didn't notice the shades over him slowly lifting, melting away. Angry claw marks glared at her, and she knew they had to be hurting him. Not by word or deed did he betray it though. No, he actually seemed… more relaxed, blissful even.

"I'm sorry I do not have any medicines to ease your pain, or even my wand." "You have no reason to be sorry. I'm grateful for what you're doing and hope I can be there to repay you in kind someday." She sensed his smile under the sincerity, replying back, "You've saved me a dozen times over, so-" It ended in a gasped as she looked up at him now. His face… It was beautiful. Noble, Romanesque features, a strong jaw line, the hair dark as night [a complement to his pale skin] falling over his face in a rakish look… and ohmygod it was Snape. Only a, dare she say, seemingly softer, more youthful Snape. Finished with her ministrations, she settled her hands in her lap and just stared. She felt silly for being so surprised. He'd even asked her to call him Severus. She'd felt a little weird at that, especially sing it'd rung a disturbing bell, but she'd already chalked up so much to over-active imagination, like Black Lake, so…

Her mind immediately shied away from the aforementioned subject and she let it drop. But she'd noticed similarities in the eyes, the same coal black with the same strong yet stubborn gleam, the mouth that wasn't set in the same disdainful moue but similar enough, the lean build… Not that she'd spent so much time staring at her ex-professor it was easy to compare, that'd be absurd, she was just a very observant person and given how much attention she paid to _all _her teachers in her pursuit of education… Stuff popped in. And she knew a few other teachers' first names, heard around the halls and such, so yea she had Snape's in the back of her mind somewhere. So therefore she should've listened to her inklings better and not be so stunned.

Constant vigilance, right? Moody would be dreadfully disappointed, were he still alive. Her view now crystal clear, the shadows seeming to embrace him rather than cover and hide his appearance, firelight playing across him teasingly, her surprise was turning into curious scrutiny… which soon became admiration. She'd never realized what an impression figure he was. And, still in the same position she'd been in before, between his legs, she was starting to get ideas. Clearly the impishness lurking in her mind so often since the journey began had overtaken the logic. He _did _seem to enjoy having her hands on him…"May I ask you a question, Severus?" He nodded hesitantly. "You may do anything you like with me." Had he meant his words to emerge so sensuously? Surely not. Yet butterflies took flight in her belly anyway.

"Are you… do you like me?" He look away from her for a long moment and gave another slow nod. "More than I should," he muttered. Those butterflies morphed into ravens, flapping their dark wings wildly. "Then I'd like very much for you to kiss me." His gaze strayed to her lips, but he stayed where he was. "You are pretty, and strong, but there are rules, Hermione. One does not give into such things." "You admitted you liked me, you saved me at risk to yourself. Do you not find me attractive enough?" Doubt and insecurities entered into her mind, as well as repudiation for her thoughts and being so weak as to ask. That creature on the banks, the one who had looked so like her yet not [better in fact], he might've kissed _her_. But not plain ol' Hermione, not- Her dastardly thoughts were thankfully interrupted when she heard him shift forward.

As if he had read her mind, his face had gentled from that inscrutable mask with a smile and softly pressed his mouth to hers. "Exquisite," he whispered in the hairsbreadth between them, claiming her lips again more fiercely. She gasped at the taste, warmth tingling over her. Drugging warmth, electric warmth. Her lips parted and he swept his tongue inside. So sweet. Like a snowstorm after a millennium of fire. She agreed. Beyond exquisite. "More," she said aloud. "Deeper. Harder." "Sure?" "More than I've ever been." His tongue dueled with hers, rolling together, retreating then going back for more. She moaned when his teeth scraped her, her arms sliding up his chest- one anchoring around his neck, the other in his soft inky hair. "Like?" she asked. He merely nodded and pulled her closer. "Good. Me too."

Her lush breasts pressed into his chest, her nipples hard. Tremors rocked her, and her muscles tightened against the strain of remaining in her seat. With every touch, every breath her control was further sapped. She yearned suddenly to strip him, climb over him and have him inside her as his tongue was, thrusting and electrifying every cell. 'More, more, more. Have to have more. Have to have _all_,' something primal and animalistic growled in her mind, scaring her a little. The realization of her actions rocked her and she pulled away. "Demons," she panted, "We have to watch for demons now. And find a way out." Not saying another word, she stalked off, glad to be back on solid ground. It was another two mile trek before they came across something other than red parched desert- a cavern, to be exact.

A two mile trek thinking of nothing but his kiss. And cursing- herself mostly, the curiosity that started it, the fear that ended it. Sticking close to him as he'd advised, she nevertheless stayed quiet, just trooping along. Then taunting laughter and pain-filled cries immediately assaulted her ears. Gulping, her eyes darted about the large area. Had they been seen yet? So many demons… in every shape and size. Some were all bone and scales, some were half-man half-bull. Some were winged like dragons with snouts to match. Yet all of them crowded a stone slab. A moving slab? "Quick, pull your hood up and stick to the shadows," he hissed, moving in front of her protectively. She swiftly did as he ordered, horror claiming her in a bruising grip and nearly crushing her lungs. Humans lay atop the slabs. A few demons were ripping some apart, eating their insides. A few others seemed content on toying with them. Dear gods.

Unfortunately there was no peace for the damned. Only endless torture. Would she have been next up on the menu if not for him? She couldn't breathe. "Over here." He edged them to the side and out of the way, and she knew it was so that they could observe the happenings without drawing notice. "These creatures are minions, soldiers. They should be easy enough to avoid if we're careful." Minions, she knew, who enjoyed eating their prey's agony, their main focus fulfillment of a single, basic need: hunger. Sometimes two hungers at once- for she could see what some of the monsters were doing to their female victims as they fed from them. But better to run into minions than their Lords, who cared only for the agony. Prolonging it, increasing it to the depths of insanity. The more agony they inflicted, the more screams they elicited, the stronger they got. She paid attention in History of Magic. And church, having dutifully gone every Sunday with her mother as a child.

But unknown to either official source, Voldemort had struck a pack with such demons. That had been part of her nightmare/vision. And it had terrified her. It was much worse firsthand. "Something smells good. Like fear…" something suddenly rasped beside Hermione. "Mmm, I'm feeling _hungry_." Startled, she gasped. 'I've already given myself away?' Severus tried pulling her behind him, but she resisted. Something wanted her to fight, egged her on, sinking its claws deep into her heart so subtly she'd never noticed a change._ 'You can't survive down here. Not and retain your sanity and humanity. You are weak. Let me help.' _Suddenly that help seemed a lot more appealing, given her companions' injuries and her helplessness in this strange and scary terrain.

"Move away or die," she told the demon with more bravado than she possessed. _'Let me help you. Let me make you strong. Much stronger than them. Help us both.' _The voice entreated again, just seeming to get stronger. Maybe this time she wouldn't sink into the background, letting everyone else tackle the physical, letting them take all the risks while she buried her nose in a book. It circled them, lashing out at Severus, who crumpled to his knees with a grimace. "I _will _kill you." It frowned at her. "You look like me, so you do you smell so good?" It licked its lips, fangs gleaming from the edges of its mouth. Pale, gaunt skin stretched over its bones. And while it appeared lean, she suspected unyielding strength rested in that frame.

A tremor moved her. 'You are the brightest witch of your age. Figure this out!' she screamed inside her head. It stepped closer, over the injured spy. "Taaaaaste." Something snapped in her, fiercely awakening. "You were warned." She said braced herself. The demon continued to inch towards them, claws lengthening. She was part of the Golden Trio; it was past time she acted like it. She didn't have a minute to spare in worry. Defeat would not be theirs. Any moment the creature would cease its stalking and spring. She knew it, felt it. Hermione reached inside herself as she angled her chin to stare deep into its eyes, surprised to find this power so easily accessible. She shouldn't have been surprised. It might've been suppressed before, under her doubts and insecurities and fears, but surely it had always been there?

Already she couldn't remember what it was like to be weak. The raging, churning sea of power in her eyes for all to see. A strange glow about her, she lifted her hands, "Stay," she snarled. The creature locked in place, its mind still active but every part of its physical form now hers to command. She drank in her handiwork- the creature's struggle, and helplessness, apparent in its murderous glare. "Raise your arms up, over your head." Instantly it obeyed, shooting both arms into the air without a word of complaint. But then, she had control over its mouth too. Satisfaction sang through her veins as she saw _every _demon in the cavern, including the ones several feet away, had frozen in place with their hands in the air. Even the tormented remains of the human souls had stopped writhing. There was no laughter, no cries. Only the sound of her own breathing.

She grinned toothily as Severus's eyes opened in wonder. "Now leave us. Warn all you see that we are out for revenge and all who head this way will intimately know the pain of their victims." Fear flashes in their eyes, and defiance, but within minutes they popped out of site one by one. She made sure, with her swirling golden eyes the image of their impending, gruesome deaths played over and over in their minds. Quick as a snap though, before she could gloat too much on her victory, a sharp pain sliced through her like every organ was being shredded. Holding her hands over her stomach, she just noticed the clawed scratches on her shoulders. "No," she breathed. She'd been touched by the demon. Possibly infected. Pain and shock rained through her like poisoned hail and curled her into a ball, swamped her with dizziness. So weak… Worse than before. Stronger, more aggressive. Dangerous.

Somehow she knew if she gave into this lethargy she would be consumed forever. "Hermione? Hermione! What's wrong?" The image of the professor clambered painfully to his feet, rushing to her. "Hurts," she panted. "Burning. Stabbing pains. Not gonna last long." She was dying, she knew it. "It's ok, I got you," he murmured, sounding so far away. She whimpered, wanting to beg him not to leave but not finding the strength. Finally she got out, "Kiss me?" Once last time. He hesitated and she grabbed him desperately, needing… something. Anything to get her mind off this agony. He instantly pressed against her, solid chest to soft breasts, hands pinning her arms, mouth slamming into hers passionately. His tongue thrust deep and she welcomed him, freeing her arms enough to wind them around his neck and arch into him.

His taste was decadent, wild and burning, like dark spices. His muscles were tensed under her palms. Up she moved them, until her fingers were tangled in his hair. The locks felt smooth as silk as they brushed her skin, causing her to shiver. As anticipated, the pain eased considerably, bodies undulating in ecstasy, twisting together. She hummed in approval. Oh yes, and he was hard. Hard and long and thick. But she really shouldn't be noticing things like that, she told herself. Or how delicious he smelled. Good enough to eat… And she was dreadfully tempted, eyeing his neck as she licked a path along his jaw. She could bite. Right now, and in the throes of pleasure he probably wouldn't even notice, wouldn't miss a few pints of- oh god, what was she thinking?

Biting him? Blood? She wretched away. "Sever-" A boom echoed behind them, sounding as if an explosion had gone down just behind them, rocks crackling and tumbling. "You should go," he shouted over the noise. She nodded her head strongly. "Yes, we need to-" "No, you! I have business left to take care of, you go. Be safe." She was about to interrupt him again but his looked immediately silenced her. "You'll make it back?" He nodded back. "But-" He pushed her towards a glowing portal with one last kiss, to quiet her. "Go." Then the vortex pulled her in, sank around her, and she knew no more. Except that as she fell she felt something cold and dark wrap around her. _'I've been waiting for you…'_

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A/N: What happens next? Stayed tuned to find out.

Next Chapter: One sharp-nailed hand was raised to strike [the other around their throat] and she looked at him, entirely unfocused yet snarling, fingers sparking with wild magic. Shock and a touch of fear radiated from the tall, gaunt young man as well as hurt. She reveled in it for a moment without recognition of what was happening. "Mione?" he whispered shakily.


	5. Chapter 5

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

**Chapter 5**

Reality filtered down through the rays of light, at last piercing the waves of inky darkness that kept her prisoner, and dust motes wafted with them and touched down on closed lids, sparking a strange electrical reaction. And suddenly the young woman came brilliantly back to life, though all too aware of the hammering in her skull, the biting ache in her belly, and the fact she was all alone. Her eyes cracked open, almost hating the light that stung them. Where was her protector? Where was the soothing voice in her ear and the warm strength that had kept her going? Not that she needed the warmth now. A stifling heat had awaited her upon waking, a direct opposition to the hoarfrost of yesterday. Or what she believed to be yesterday.

Her veins now boiled with it, tiny flames licking just under the skin and radiated outwards, coating the moonlit flesh with an iridescent glow. The same fire that burned in her eyes, turning them a warm, golden amber instead of the chocolate hue of old. Those curious eyes perused the room around her [long tidied since her previous spell of wild magic], objectively taking in the sharp, crisp detail apparent in each potion bottle and cot and curtain. Surprisingly new sounds echoed in her ears and a plethora of new smells met her nose as well. Flowers. Fresh linen. The sting of something like bleach. She made a face at that.

Whether it was a new appreciation brought on by a near death experience or the physical side effect of oxygen deprivation [half-drowning] combined with a mild concussion and severe blood loss, it was amazing. Hermione rose from the bed and, heedless of the usually drafty hospital gown and the riotous mass of curls tumbling down her back, she padded over to the window. From her vantage point, through the dark, she viewed the carpet of colorful leaves on the ground that added to the ambiance, the half-bare trees, and touch of rime on the sill. She almost lost her balance. Fall has started. She'd been in this ward for weeks already? Two weeks, she noted, focusing on what appeared to be a fresh copy of The Quibbler.

So much precious time lost. How many had died without her to safeguard or prepare them? Ron, skilled in combat but physically weakened and devoid of magic, maybe? Harry, immensely powerful but sleep deprived and reckless? Any number of the young, still somewhat innocent [and naïve] charges of the school? And all the research time she'd missed. Research vital to the cause. What would her friends think? She tried not to care so much, but the hormones rushing through her left her dizzy-headed and she couldn't identify half of them. But they left her open to attack. Caught in the confusion, she missed the movement behind her until it was close enough to send a soft breeze in her direction and a flash in the corner of her eye. A heightened awareness and startling, newly honed instincts had her spinning around quicker than a blink, grabbing her potential opponent roughly though blindly.

One sharp-nailed hand was raised to strike [the other around their throat] and she looked at him, entirely unfocused yet snarling, fingers sparking with wild magic. Shock and a touch of fear radiated from the tall, gaunt young man as well as hurt. She reveled in it for a moment without recognition of what was happening. "Mione?" he whispered shakily. It was a long moment before the fog lifted, Hermione gaining control over the primal impulses, and she smiled weakly at Ron before releasing her grip. Pulling him close in attempts to mask her perplexity and avoid his, she wondered what was wrong with her as he spoke again. "We were all so worried… you were so pale and cold, and there was so much blood…"

His voice was choked with tears. "We were afraid you wouldn't wake up." It was probably the most she'd heard him say since they recovered him. She was warmed by it. "I know exactly how that feels." Touching his face was like a catalyst. She looked into his eyes with amazement that turned into something close to hunger, unaware that colors swirled in her own, flames leaping between them. The young witch breathed in his scent that was like sun-kissed earth and woods as she subconsciously pressed closer, not understanding the sensations coursing through her. Oddly enough, she'd realize later, his touch alone seemed to alleviate a lot of the lingering pain and discomfort she awoke with. It evaporated in a blaze of desire. The fact that 'they' were long over didn't enter into her mind. Hermione licked her lips, eyeing him under thick dark lashes with new appreciation.

Something almost feral in her still wanted to leap, and it scared her so she closed her eyes, swallowing heavily and willing it away. But shutting off one sense only seemed to sharpen others, she noticed quickly, a strange forceful tugging flaring up as her fingers stroked across the care skin at his nape. It didn't matter then that something key was missing, there lacked a certain tingle of electricity or enchantment. Another part of her was demanding to be fed- and not the pastries he had brought in. one of them gasped, him or her she wasn't sure, but just as soon as it happened it was over, them breaking apart in surprise as the medical wing doors swung open, Madame Pomphrey rushing in, panting. "I was all the way across the castle when I felt the change in my wards. I came as soon as I could- Hermione! You're awake! Oh my stars!" The words were choked and she saw the mediwitch's eyes glisten wetly.

"We had no idea- I mean- We thought-" The older woman cleared her throat, giving her a quick hug. "But you're with us now. Oh, thank Merlin!" "She almost wasn't," a deeper, rougher male voice rasped from the doorway. Hermione's head shot up, her startled gaze searching the shadowed area to find Harry's lanky form leaning against the doorjamb. An almost angry sneer [rivaling Snape's own] set off the harsh planes of his face and the bottomless mossy depths of his eyes. She shivered and held her breath as he slid fluidly into motion, moving towards them with a panthers' grace. "Mr. Potter!" Madame Pomphrey, who she'd worked endless months with apprenticing, gasped at hearing him, having jumped up in surprise. "Shame on you for just popping in like that without a warning! And with Miss Granger here in such delicate condition!"

As if feeling her shiver again [being so close] from all the energy in the air, her mentor looked towards her with concern, obviously thinking her cold or sick still, and was reminded of her current attire. Flushing, whether out of shame at her oversight or the room suddenly filled with virile men, Hermione didn't know, but with a flick of her wrist, Pomona transfigured her hospital gown into robes. "With your level of pain and extensive injuries you shouldn't even be out of bed anyway, young woman! We had to put you in stasis, even temporarily bind you, to properly heal you without you constantly aggravating the wounds with all that thrashing!" The healer's eyes narrowed suddenly, thinking. "But how did you get out of the bands?" A glance to Ron had him shaking his head, first in puzzlement then in clarity. "I didn't." Hermione, eyes clouded, shrugged, heart racing. She didn't want to over-analyze what she considered a blessing.

"Maybe the magic wore off or didn't seal properly?" she offered, eyes darting around. The theory went unquestioned for the moment as the focus became Harry's stormy countenance once more. Guilt and anxiety swarmed about her. He was going to remind her of her foolish, thoughtless actions, and how much she's scared them and let them down. She knew it. Yet instead he swept her into his arms as well. "Nearly two weeks in this limbo, fighting to keep you alive yet fearing it was too late." Admonishing yet not entirely. Worried. Angry and grief-stricken yet caring apparent. "What prompted you to venture near the Black Lake at night? Or even to leave the main grounds?" Slightly disorientated by the shifts between caring, concerned and thunderous, she struggled with the void that existed in lieu of memory.

"I don't know… can't remember. I was really upset, I don't know why, but I heard a child scream and ran. Then it gets really fuzzy. Like a dream." Dream. That conjured up a whole different set of images. Her head was swimming . Senses seared, pulse galloping at break-neck speed, heat pooled in her stomach and she couldn't understand it. Harry got her attention again, making her aware of the fact she'd drifted off a second time. "Do you think it was a trick, an illusion? Perhaps involving Voldemort?" he persisted. Her brow furrowed, trying to concentrate through the haze of desire that washed over her, barely cognizant of Pomona shooing Ron back to his room in the ward, worrying over his weakness.

"I don't think so. I mean, it was so real… I _touched _her, held her as she slipped off that cliff edge. But I don't want to talk about it anymore." Hermione shuddered, the memories turning scary and dark after that. Now _those _had to be a trick of her mind, right? Uncertain, her arms tightened around the wizards' neck as she buried her face into his shoulder, seeking more of the relief he so readily provided. He'd been so distant for the longest time, first with Cedric's death, then Sirius's and onward... and she wanted to enjoy this while she still could. She missed her friend, not so much 'The Boy Who Lived' aka 'The Wizarding Worlds' Savior.' Two very different people in her mind. She inhaled deeply, surrounded by the scents of wind, rain, and a static energy that was oddly soothing. Harry sighed, relenting [thankfully brushing aside his avengers' streak that 'scented' blood], and she smiled softly, tiredly, gesturing for them to sit.

Snuggling against his side, she murmured that he'd worried her too when he was closing himself off with all his training and barely eating, though she'd done a lot of the same. He brought up the irony of her concern despite being so close to death for a fortnight but quieted when she reminded him of all the times _he _was at deaths' door. She traced the lines on the palm of his narrow, slightly tanned hands, pausing on all the faded white curse scars she knew covered more than his hands. "And how are you and Ginny doing?" she ventured carefully, curious. A tough subject to broach for either party, but one that had previously bothered her, knowing how close they'd been. Though recently they'd been having a lot of trouble. She wouldn't be surprised if the youngest Weasley was avoiding the medical reason for the sole reason that Harry would be here, which made sense despite the sting it brought.

He shot her an indecipherable look that could've meant he didn't want to discuss it, he didn't know yet, or something else. "Still not talking. I'm pretty sure it's over for good this time," he shrugged. "But maybe it's better this way. She can't deal with all the distance and my extended time away training or studying, among other things, and I can't deal with the possible risk and her limitations." The erstwhile hero didn't elaborate and she didn't push, just offering a silent reassurance he probably just took half-heartedly. But she felt the muscles bunch in his left arm as the hand tightened into a fist, a sign of helpless aggravation that almost emphasized his tension and exhaustion. Yet it inspired a completely different reaction in her. Her fingers curled around his strong forearm and the heat from that contact set off an incendiary spark that doubled that which had been burning in her since awakening, feeling changed.

Closing eyes that were [unbeknownst to her] shimmering an unnaturally hot, golden color, she leaned in further and he reflexively closed his arms around her. It was an old, familiar gesture that used to be about comfort but now, at least for her, was about something different. His ever-tousled dark hair [worn longer these days] tickled her nose, which made her laugh and nuzzle her face against his neck. Intoxicated by all the new sensations, liquid fire flooded her and his heady aroma had her feeling light-headed. "Harry," she breathed. Feeling his heart rate kick up under her palm and his jaw clench and unclench in an emotional whirlwind, she traced a path up his neck to his ear with the tip of her tongue before nipping a tender lobe.

He jolted back in what looked like shock, touching his ear. The sheer power radiating from him though was like a beacon that drew her in further, making her drunk, a potent aphrodisiac that had her own pulse skyrocketing. Odd- just a few weeks ago she'd never even noticed one's magical aura, and now it was not only blaring out at her, but it was irresistible. Hearing a sharp intake of breath, the young witch smoothly stretched forward, molding herself into his lap and shoving her hands through the silky black locks that fascinated her. And, no longer really herself [the ever-logical, brainy student] but a passionate, feeling, instinctive creature, she followed with nipping kisses along his jaw line… tasting him before working up to his lips. 'Want me,' her mind whispered to his.

His reticence faded with the shocked call of her name and the hands that had come up to push her away instead decided to hold her closer. The moment with Ron completely fizzled out of memory. _This _was where it was at. Now, if only he were taller, like- "How sweet a reunion- should I leave you to your puerile entertainment then?" A snide voice queried drolly from the doorway. Her head broke away, turning around slowly, frustrated at having been interrupted when she was so needing… Eyes foggy with desire and lips puffy from kissing, a snarl revealing sharp white teeth was aimed at the Professor… and it grew fiercer when she felt Harry scoot back, eyeing the older man with reproach. Running her hands down her robes to keep herself from hexing [and meanwhile straightening her clothes], she fought the shiver that wracked her upon hearing that purring tone.

'There is absolutely nothing sexy about his voice!' she growled to herself, angry at the flood of hormones. Nothing! Yet the flushed, heavy, out-of-control feel of her body didn't even subside with Snape's entry... just got worse. "Well then, if you're through, I am going to need a moment to talk with Miss Granger," the surprisingly soothing baritone rolled out. Apparently in spacing out, focused on her body's traitorous responses, she'd missed what was pretty much a whole conversation- and the cool glitter of Snape's charcoal eyes told her he knew it. Her companion still looked lost- perplexed by her actions, aggravated by the Potion Masters' presence, and uncomfortable with the implied order given. His distaste was overruled by the other males' authority and the respect due as Dumbledore's chosen, he nodded slowly and stood- leaving his friend alone following a short goodbye.

Traitor. Though everything in his emerald gaze promised a talk later. Which wouldn't get him off the hook, her own gaze flashed back. But she nodded reluctantly to reassure his unspoken questions of her safety and comfort, even if it was a lie, and watched the door swing shut again with trepidation greatly rising. Especially since she found herself wishing for closer contact with the older man. "Forgive me if I don't follow the example of the others and give you a 'welcome-back' hug. I find myself struck by another case of utter disgust for such foolishness," he sneered. Like she was even thinking about it, she thought crossly, folding her arms with an eye roll.

"Not to mention there is the much more pressing matter of the Black Lake incident." Dread colored her thoughts as she tried to swallow passed the knot in her throat. "It's foggy, I can't remember." Her eyes darted away from the obsidian orbs that seemed to peer into her very soul. They probably did too, she noted with a scowl. He _was an _extremely intelligent, powerful and a skilled Leglimens [Occlumens too actually]. And intimidating, she added last-second. No matter that Dumbledore seemed to trust him. The hairs on the back of her neck stood as almost a warning in response to his movement, even though he still remained on the edge of some imaginary boundary. "I don't believe you," he said, an octave or two lower.

"You don't remember what gave you the inch-deep, half-inch wide gouge marks spanning the length of your arms? Or all the broken bones and massive bruising? You skin looked like someone took a cheese grater or it in come places!" His voice was incredulous, every nuance suggesting she'd had to have suffered major brain damage as well not to remember such trauma. And it was his tone she focused on then- a ferocious, angry light in her eyes as she glared at him, fingers gripping the sheets to keep from tearing into him. Did he forget that according to the mediwitch, she _did _suffer major brain injuries? His casual mention of a simple kitchen utensil escaped her notice. "I suppose you wouldn't be able to explain to coagulating agent in your system that slowed your healing process either, would you?"

He sneered. "If it hadn't been for the careful observation of Madame Pomphrey, on top of numerous batches of Blood Replenishing potions and healing salves, I doubt you would've made it at all. And you can't give us any more information as to how you even ended up there?" Feeling under attack, Hermione glowered, wrapping her arms around herself as if to ward off the sudden chills running down her back. "I don't know!" she gritted defensively through clenched teeth. A whiff of sandalwood and spice drifted to her on a billow of tailored black robes and her head snapped back up, eyes shot with panic and something else as her stomach clenched with a painful familiarity. 'No no no,' was the resounding thought as the witch felt strangely compelled to move closer. She moved backwards instead, taking a deep breath. She instantly regretted it.

His scent surrounded her, circulated inside her, now, and she licked her lips, suddenly feeling feverish. 'No!' She blindly gulped down the restorative on the side table to keep from saying something she'd kill herself later for. Unfortunately, however, the medical draught wasn't mixing well with her empty stomach and her face quickly took on a sickly hue. "I can see you are going to require some… refreshments," Snape acknowledged smoothly. She could swear she saw amusement in his gaze a second before he snapped his fingers and she almost cursed him. Almost. Until the food appeared. Including a nice, juicy, rare steak. For her protein and iron deficiencies, he said. But she didn't care about the health factor as long as it ended up in her stomach.

What further surprised her though [as if Snape feeding her wasn't enough to make her head spin], was the ginger-root drink for nausea. And as she saw it, she muttered various means of torture; sure he knew the reason for her greater discomfort and was mocking her. But she bit into the steak rather than follow through with any of it. He'd suss out her intentions and have her pinned to the floor before she could make it halfway, she decided. She tried to ignore the inappropriate connotations. "I'll leave you to your meal then, Miss Granger. But believe me- I _will _be back within the hour," he said, lip curled. And with that, he swept from the room.

* * *

Next Chapter: The heat inside her grew and she shifted uncomfortably on her stool. A whiff of sandalwood and spice teased her nostrils and she inhaled deeply, feeling oddly light-headed. An unexpected hunger gnawed in her gut, and as if in direct correlation, she started gnawing on her lower lip, wondering if maybe Pomphrey was right when she'd said she wasn't ready to leave the ward.


	6. Chapter 6

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Halfway down the hall, Severus Snape tried putting together the new facts of Miss Grangers' mysterious condition with what he knew of the incident and decided nothing added up. Especially that she was moving around like nothing had happened. How had she sustained such injury and lived? How did they occur when there was no evidence of a second partys' involvement, either magical or natural? Her wand had obviously fallen to the base of the island when she fell, there was traces of blood and torn clothing at the top proving the drop. But how had she left the castle and main grounds without triggering the protective wards? He frowned in consternation.

Though he was sure the stasis spell had done as much harm as good, he was amazed at the difference seen in just the hour she'd been awake. 'The fact she was awake at all was a bloody miracle,' he thought with no small degree of scorn. 'Foolish Gryffindors.' It's like they get a kick out of nearly getting killed, the way they rush around without thinking. Or they just enjoy the attention. _She _certainly seemed to. Yet you'd never guess she'd so recently been an inch from death. There was still a slight pallor and pronounced features due to loss of blood and weight, but she'd quickly regained a healthy albeit slightly feverish flush. And if her attack on the food, [the second she thought he couldn't see] was any indication, her appetite was in full bloom, which boded well.

Her musculature oddly hadn't seemed to suffer in her infirmity, which posed more questions. He ticked off all the points as he categorized them mentally. He'd had her 'vitals', as the mediwitch termed them, sent to his lab- but at least he had something to go off. The bursts of wild magic around her, seen when she was unconscious and then again minutes after waking, were difficult to get a grasp of and therefore presented a problem. Of course it could be the high level of danger and survival instincts kicking in and setting off a rapid-fire chemical overload leading to the outburst? The rush of hormones, if her odd behavior was any indication, proved an interesting side note.

Though, he supposed, he had no real way of knowing if that _was_ indeed odd behavior for her, so it was just a guess for now. He sighed. Or maybe he just needed to sleep. That easily explained the slowed mental process, trouble formulating ulterior theories, _and_ his untoward fascination with the young witch's autumn-colored hair. But the way her mouth looked closing in on that fork…? The professor shook his head as if to clear it. Maybe while running tests on her abnormal blood-work he should research transference spells that affected the senses…

* * *

True to his word, Snape had returned at the end of the hour to question her some more about the night she was fatally wounded, though he maintained his position just outside her square of 'personal space.' And looked even grumpier and more annoyed than usual, she noted. Especially since they went nowhere with the mock interrogation- because of her refusal to submit to Leglimency, according to Snape, and because he couldn't accept her word that there'd been someone else there. Hermione still insisted there had to be a way even though there was no supporting evidence and he'd called her a _deluded_ insufferable know-it-all [but at least he changed it up a bit], acting like she'd insulted his skills and intelligence…

Then Pomona had broken it up and shooed him out for upsetting her patient. And his snarl, however scary, was no match for that stern guardians' face. A fact that made Hermione giggle. So it was both a frustrating and amusing experience. Harry had even snuck in sometime around dawn, surprised she was still awake but also uncharacteristically nervous as he put the 'light reading' he brought her on the table and retreated. The subject of the kiss wasn't brought up but in his measuring gaze she figured he still didn't know what to make of it. Then, neither did she, though she understood why he stayed a few paces away as they talked. Awkward silences aside, it was nice having her friend back.

The young woman sighed, lying back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling until a fitful sleep claimed her. And two nightmares and some exploded flowers later, morning finally arrived. The potions required to test her blood for cellular strength, defects, and other such nonsense Snape needed wouldn't be ready for several days and Pomphrey was hesitant to let her go until then. Even though she seemed in perfect health or better now. Now _that_ was frustrating. She didn't know how Ron stood it, spending most of his days in his private room in the medical ward while they kept tabs on his slowly recovering magic and mental state. She knew Pomphrey was very protective of her charges, especially since the three of them had been in there more than most, but this was ridiculous. Not that the redhead complained, but in

Hermione's mind that just said more about his infirmity, and not in a good way. Having been pacing the room like a caged beast, she let out an aggravated growl and threw herself into the chair by the corner desk. Maybe, with nothing else to do, she could tackle some [unnecessary] coursework. No reason to let her education suffer just because the school year was pretty much canceled out. Arithmancy, while boring, could always calm her nerves- breaking everything down into numbers and solving each problem with speed and precision. If only everything was that easy. Only the longer she sat in front of the books, the more agitated she got and the fuzzier the words got, blurring all over the page, angrily buzzing around her head…

Slamming her notebook shut again in frustration, she leapt up, and just at that moment heard Pomphrey bustling in. Hopefully her luck was about to change. Crossing the large area in a blink, Hermione popped out from behind the divide and apparently scared the daylights out of her, from the way she jumped and shrieked. "Hermione! Dear, you've got to give an old gal like me some warning! My heart might not make it. How you breezed through without sight or sound is beyond me." The younger woman just bounced back on her heels, "Too many years of sneaking around with Harry and Ron I guess. I'm going crazy all day with nothing to do though. There has to be _something_." Pomphrey gave her a chiding look. "You were so close to death just yesterday; I'm not convinced you're ready to go running all over creation."

"Hardly all over creation! Just the castle," the brunette wheedled. "And I'm feeling better than ever, look at me." She performed a few tricks, making her mentor laugh. The mediwitch sighed, running some diagnostics, "Well, alright. It seems you've had a miraculous recovery, though I don't know how. I suppose you could leave the ward for air- but I want you back by nightfall." At her words, the eighteen-year-old flashed a victorious grin then hid it behind an angelic mask, "Cross my heart." "One minute!" the guardian called as she prepared to go, "While you're out, drop this supply list off at the Potions lab for Mr. Snape. We desperately need to re-stock and I can't do it all myself." Fighting the urge to jump around excitedly, Hermione nodded, took the scroll and ran… missing Pomphrey's secretive smile.

Eyes bright and practically sparking with energy, her long strides took her to the dungeon in a matter of minutes. Though when she arrived at her destination, there seemed to be nobody there. Sighing in annoyance [knowing this would keep her from her fun], she barged right in and headed straight for Snape's back office. It seemed clear to her that he'd been zoning out over his books when he visibly startled as the door hit the wall. Surprise then irritation flickered in his eyes before the cold emptiness returned. "Miss Granger, may I ask exactly what emergency has fallen upon Hogwarts that prompted you to trample through like a stunned Hippogriff?" The professor sneered, closing his book abruptly and throwing it down.

Narrowing her eyes at his tone, she tossed Pomphrey's scroll his way and he deftly caught it. "Medical supply list compiled by Dumbledore. Pomphrey had her hands full and needed help." Then she turned to exit the room. And found herself stuck. She felt a pulling sensation in her gut, wrapping around her body and refusing to let her leave. Hearing her curse, Snape smirked. "Surely your beloved mentor told you the scroll was spelled? No? Pity. After a few got misplaced, destroyed, etc., a little extra insurance was warranted. The messenger doesn't leave until I add my seal, showing I received it, and a sticking/shielding charm keeps it intact on my board." Gritting her teeth and fighting the urge to childishly stomp her foot, Hermione just glared.

"O….kay. So could you seal it? I have other things I'd like to do before nightfall." She should've known better than to pushy the persnickety man, should've controlled the rising anger better- Hermione realized it as soon as she saw his changing expression. The Potions' Master set down the scroll. "Actually, after that… performance of yours, I was reminded of my own busy schedule and the fact that I could use a lab assistant." The breath slowly hissed out from between her teeth. 'Bastard. What the hell could _you _have to do besides grade papers and read your moldy old books? You just want to torture me.' She bit her tongue to keep herself from spitting the words out. "What happened to just deducting House points?" she asked sulkily instead. "Very well," he said a little too smoothly.

"Thirty points from Gryffindor then. Now, I suggest you get a start on setting up cauldrons and ingredients to minimize time sent brewing. Unless you _do _want to be here all night." Her hands curled into fists so tight at her sides her nails bit into her palms, drawing blood. But, shooting daggers with her eyes, she nevertheless obeyed. And she cursed under her breath some more, promptly vowing revenge. She wasn't sure exactly how she'd go about such a thing, or even what she'd do, just that it'd come. Come like the storm slowly percolating outside, thunderclouds rumbling, accompanied by flashes of light that were reflected in her hazel eyes. And beneath that storm paced a dangerous animal that didn't take too kindly to the bonds once again forced upon it. The grin that crept over her face would've been positively frightening if anyone had happened to see it.

Everyone knew what a caged beast was like- as well as the fates of those that provoked it. Keeping an eye on him at all times, she got out the materials for the advanced medicinal draughts. Hermione was sorely tempted to do it all with a wave of her hand, because she _knew _she could, but managed to control the urge, knowing he'd make her do it all over again if he caught her. Potions could be a very delicate art, as he reminded them numerous times over the years, and sometimes even the residual magic used to clean them the quick way could affect the results. Or so he said, the students all agreed it was just to make them sweat. But the need for these potions was too great to risk it so she could leave quicker, so she leashed her emotions more for their sake.

Tossing powered larkspur into one cauldron and chopping acromantula legs into another, her predatory glare never wavered until Snape's coal black orbs connected with it. Then it was kind of like tumbling from a rocky perch down through an icy mist and into a long, dark tunnel where part of her wanted to keep following until she found the light at the other end- and another part wanted only to sink deeper into that shadowy warmth. There was something hypnotic and fittingly serpentine in that gaze; just as there was in that voice like velvet, or melted chocolate, or poison… Cold but disseminating into you until you felt positively feverish, coating your veins and stopping your heart and lungs with such subtle charm it was all over before you realized it. Giving off the same effect as a fine liquor, really. The contrasts were fascinating. And suddenly so was the silky onyx hair sweeping across his moonlight skin, the stony line of his jaw, the long nimble fingers curled around the flask off freshly brewed antivenin…

The heat inside her grew and she shifted uncomfortably on her stool. A whiff of sandalwood and spice teased her nostrils and she inhaled deeply, feeling oddly light-headed. An unexpected hunger gnawed in her gut, and as if in direct correlation, she started gnawing on her lower lip, wondering if maybe Pomphrey was right when she'd said she wasn't ready to leave the ward. The waves of power radiating off him beat at her like the wings of a giant moth… 'Or bat,' she thought before the half-hearted attempt at amusement faded under the weight of something much stronger. It was both stifling and oddly reassuring. Familiar. The young witch, far too in-tune with the universal energies just then, felt it like a physical thing… a none-too-gentle caress all over her body.

Her own power, greater than she'd ever felt it before, leapt inside her in response, shining under her skin like she'd swallowed the moon. It was like a well-choreographed dance. A tango; magic snapping and mingling and swirling in the air. She could almost see the colors of them. Almost identical actually. Did he see it? Could he feel it? Entranced, she was barely aware of the fact that several potions finished and were set aside- or that she'd already begun to cross the room. The one called Hermione lifted her face as if scenting the air again and breathed deep, a taste like electricity sparkling on her tongue like pop rocks and soda.

Strength. Confidence and knowledge. Explosive levels of magic and a firm hand over it all. Domination. It was addicting. And the thought of getting beneath that carefully controlled exterior and watching it crack like ice under pressure was both surprising and utterly arousing. He'd saved her life at that lake, and again in that dream-world. Maybe she should return the older wizard froze as she crossed the room with a look of warning, dissection, and perhaps unease. Her last name was a drawled out admonition on his lips. "Professor…" the husky purr vibrated between them. The closer she got, the more the pull quickened like two charged magnets. Inexplicably but irrevocably drawn. Until a sharp noise sounded in her ear and something whooshed through the air in front of her face. A paper.

The cover sheet to the supply list sent with her to be exact. A wave of his hand and the seal glowed brightly at the bottom. "I think our work here is done now, Miss Granger, Here's your scroll. The mediwitch should receive the vials by nightfall when filled. That is all." His tone, while sounding slightly disturbed, brooked no argument and the icy punch to her gut as the magic snapped back broke her spell. "Yes sir," she saluted mockingly, though promise shone in her eyes. Then she disappeared out the door, trying to ignore how her blood still boiled and desire pooled at her core.

* * *

Next Chapter: She wanted… she craved… she _needed_. Suddenly need was all that existed, spiraling around them, curling through every molecule. "Draaaaco," she called softly in a melodic, sing-song voice. The scent and feel of that lean, hard body caused everything in her to tighten. And it didn't matter that she spent about eight years hating him, or that he wasn't who she wanted right then.


	7. Chapter 7

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

**Chapter 7**

Hermione's mood noticeably worsened between exiting the classroom and storming down the hall. 'Denied.' It raged inside her, in a dark space occupying the back of her mind. Her frustration was building to hazardous levels, consuming her, clawing under her skin and seething in her veins. She felt helpless against the pure force of need, not knowing how to sooth it and confused by the demands of her body that jumped at the call of that insidious voice. And she hated feeling helpless and confused. Her mind had always been her greatest strength, her deadliest weapon, now she was deprived of it and the tight leash she kept on herself was all but gone. Useless. A stranger resided there. A trill of alarm sang along her nerve-endings seconds before a solid mass practically slammed into her.

It knocked her off balance- though she reflexively grabbed on and dragged it with her as she attempted to stay level. Hissing, she quickly realized her traitorous new reflexes no doubt made things worse. Now she was stuck under said mass and- "Granger, do you _ever _watch where you are going? Or did that bump to your head scramble your brains?" Malfoy. The breath left her in an irritated sigh, until she looked straight into those eyes to tell him off. Those beautiful wintery eyes- a crystalline blue frosted with silver that glittered when the light hit them, faceted like diamonds. The platinum hair and snowy, chiseled features made it easy to see why he was so popular with the girls of Hogwarts.

The irritation vanished. In its place was something equally strong that she couldn't identify welling up from her chest. She wanted… she craved… she _needed_. Suddenly need was all that existed, spiraling around them, curling through every molecule. "Draaaaco," she called softly in a melodic, sing-song voice. The scent and feel of that lean, hard body caused everything in her to tighten. And it didn't matter that she spent about eight years hating him, or that he wasn't who she wanted right then. The sight of that hair falling into his face, softening his look, and those oh-so-kissable lips sent flames licking along her skin wherever they touched. Adding to the inferno that had flared up in that encounter with Snape, the result almost unbearable and making her stifle a whimper.

Her flesh was painfully sensitized and she was all too aware of how her lush breasts were crushed against his chest, brushing and arousing more with each breath… how he reacted to her restless movements under him. Though fully clothes, being in his arms created a raging hunger she hadn't even felt with Ron, who she'd actually cared for. From the way his hold tightened around her and the rush of heat, she knew he felt it too and was affected by the pheromones. Suddenly she had to claim him. "Draco," she breathily repeated. "I need you." That flash in his gaze was all it took to have her lips covering his, drawing him closer so his full weight was on her.

It felt amazing. He gasped, a wish or a prayer she didn't know, but Hermione swallowed it; capturing a piece of his soul in her own. His surrender was like a symphony conducted by a maestro and the moan he made just made it sweeter as she absorbed his light and sound and magic. It fed the hunger and still she wanted more. In a flash the kiss changed from exploratory to possessive as something in her shouted out for her to lay him flat, tear the clothes from their bodies and jump him right there. He taste was both smoky and sweet and he smelled like leather, polish and potent male- making her wanted to rub herself all over him. Hermione felt the raging inside her, her body readying itself, opening, felt the urgent desire to have him hot and hard and deep insider her.

Tried to push the wanting away. Tried to be calm. Failed. Growling in the back of her throat, an almost unnatural strength ripped though her and she flipped their position so she was on top straddling him, his arms pinned as she devoured him. His breaths were coming in shallow pants and gasps as she rained kisses and bites over his face, neck, chest where the buttons of his shirt had been torn. Passion and hunger mixed in a volatile manner and soon she had released his wrists, tearing his clothing, her mouth trailing down his neck… and sinking suddenly sharp pearly teeth into his shoulder, drawing blood. Instantly he jolted upwards with a strangled scream, suddenly not so willing anymore as the enchantment lifted. The sudden movement made his skin tear further, teeth in too deep.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he yelped, looking both outraged and freaked-out as he pulled free, holding the wound. The alluring creature just smiled at him, licking her lips and advancing. "No way, you stay back!" He had his wand pointed now. Tilting her head curiously, she stopped, eyes glowing preternaturally, and he ran as if the Dark Lord himself was on his heels. Straight into the Potions Masters' office, slamming up every lock and ward at his disposal. Spinning around with his own wand pointed, the older man relaxed only slightly at seeing the rumpled Slytherin and raised a cool brow. Gulping Draco waved a shaky hand in the direction of the door, looking wild-eyed. "Grangers' gone batty! She's a monster!"

* * *

Severus Snape watched with calculating detachment from the 'safety' of the hallway as Hermione Granger paced the expanse of her… containment cell and snarled. He refused to believe it was any sort of negligence on his part of inadequate testing that overlooked any change of condition. His potions were flawless and without equal- and they showed no trace of spells on her system, other than the ones attempted to heal her. They showed no weakness or infection of the mind, no lack of function. And both the Headmaster and himself had thoroughly checked her background for anomalies or… non-Muggle heritage, finding nothing.

This was an unanticipated incongruity all across the board. For it was obvious now, if not before, that something was different about the girl. Wrong. He sighed heavily, yet another phial of blood pivoting in the air over his make-shift testing station near the door. Obviously something had been done, but what? He could say she'd just snapped, but that wouldn't explain the noticeable physical alterations. Was it possible the young witch had not been delusional or exaggerating about what she'd remembered about the incident at the Lake? Could another unexplained presence have something to do with this? They'd all dismissed it as an impossibility because there'd been no evidence and no other magical signature, but could there have been another explanation?

Or something they missed? The timeframe surely fit. Unless it was a more insidious, slow-moving… virus as Potter had suggested. One that had manifested before the incident for whatever reason. But again, a simple virus didn't explain all the alterations. It seemed there might be no other option but to go into her head and hunt down any residual memories/impressions that she'd hidden to get a better picture. The acerbic man scowled darkly. The only thing he'd enjoy even less was going back into Potters' head. Well, or Weasley's. At least the female had a modicum of intelligence. Or used to. Having set himself to straights after Madame Pomphrey had checked him out and bandaged him [no infection noted], Draco Malfoy stood by his side with an equal scowl, running a hand through his hair.

"It was bad enough Granger came from Muggles, a total waste if you ask me, but now she's some sort of creature? Are you _sure _I haven't been infected?" Sparing him only a momentary glance with his lips curled, Snape replied, "If Miss Granger _was _as you suggested 'some sort of creature,' there'd be little to no chance of passing it on as it's a matter of genetics, not exposure." "_If_? Did you see what she's done to me?" Draco indicated the huge covered bite. "There's no _if _about it, _Godfather_. I'd say some sort of vampire. That's infectious. Or some demon strain. My father's always going on about hybrids and their uses and-"

The professor cut him off, irritated, "First of all, you usually have to be born into certain families in such instances, second, there was no visible bite at the Lake, and third-" He trailed off as something just occurred to him, whirring and clicking in his brain. "Bloody hell." He spun around dramatically, robes fluttering behind him as he hurried down the corridor. The Malfoy heir was left to watch after him, mouth open with a confused look. "Barmy old bat," he muttered. Instantly a stinging curse hit his arm and the young wizard yelped, clutching the offending appendage. "I heard that," echoed down the hall.

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Next Chapter:

'Just a hug,' she thought,, licking her lips and eyeing his neck. Then his face touched hers as he hugged her close, head falling to her shoulder, nose and mouth stroking bare skin. And platonic or not, her senses splintered. Thrusting her hands deeply into his glorious shaggy hair and clenching her fists around it, she turned her head and took that beautiful hard mouth with her own.


	8. Chapter 8

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

After exhausting herself after a period of hours testing the limits of what seemed to be her jail, or at least getting sick of trying, Hermione sat on the edge of her cot and sulked. "You just take the side of that ferret? He technically started it. You all know what a troublesome pest he is!" she alternatively accused and pleaded. The mediwitch looked at her with an expression of reproach and defeated optimism. "We all also saw the wounds Hermione," she sighed tiredly. "And who's to say he didn't fake those too?" the girl protested with a slight pout. But another look from the woman quieted her, telling her it was pointless. "Harry, Ron, surely you don't think I've gone crazy and violent, do you?"

"Mione…" Ron started, stepping forward yet faltering after looking back at Harry. "We can't be sure exactly what's going on, or if some outside influence has affected you. But we know something is wrong Hermione, and we want to help. You're our priority right now." Before she could send out a scathing retort or let the betrayal hit her face, he handed her a mirror. She gave it a cursory glance and felt a shimmer of surprise. Her normally russet eyes were now an eerie gold color with large pupils, the lines reshaped so they seemed big as saucers, tipped at the corners like a cats'. Her face was narrower with more pronounced cheekbones and a wider, fuller, candy-apple red mouth. Sharp teeth pricked the inside of her lip and she ran her tongue over them wondrously.

She couldn't see what they found so alarming personally, except maybe the teeth, but it's not like they were that bad. An improvement over how her teeth used to look before she got them fixed the first time. So she just handed the gilded frame with a shrug. "Hermione, if we can't figure out what caused the physical and emotional changes, who's to say what's going to happen to you?" Harry's tone was worried and pained and out of regard she avoided rolling her eyes. Ron didn't get the same consideration. "Your temperature, according to Pomphrey, has been running about 103.5 degrees average and your cellular make-up is unstable! For all we know you could spontaneously combust. Or it could infect and destroy us all. I wouldn't be surprised if it's one of Voldemort's plots."

So she sighed. What use would it be to argue that she felt better than ever? More herself, or at least who she wanted to be. If it came with some… unusual side effects, she didn't care, so why should they? If it was because of what happened to Draco, it's not like they needed to worry. Why would she hurt them? 'Paranoia,' she scoffed inwardly. A plot by Voldemort? Why would he want to make her stronger? Unless the plan _was _to get her to turn on her friends. No, that was silly. So she smiled condescendingly. "I'm sure you're right, maybe I didn't consider that aspect thoroughly enough. Whatever testing you can devise, I'm on board."

This said knowing there was nothing they could do. If she was more, or even less, than what she had been, this was who she was now. She felt it. There was nothing alien about what was inside her. "Now that's the Hermione we know," Ron smiled in relief. 'No comment,' she replied in her mind as he leaned in to give her a hug before leaving. "No hug Harry?" she teased, holding out her arms once they were alone. He hesitated a long moment, making her pout again and look at him with those big eyes that seemed to glow with an inner light. And he caved. Hiding a victorious grin as he entered her space to wrap his arms around her, she held him tight, nuzzling his neck. The warmth of Harry's body was a burgeoning stroke against her. And that quickly, she was afire with sensation.

It took effort to breathe, to speak, it was so strong. Long fingers brushed her collarbone, making her moan. Every inch of her seemed to burn with a thirst she feared couldn't be quenched, until his skin touched hers like a tall glass of water. It both eased and added to her ache. 'More,' that something in her head insisted. With a shrug her sweater slipped off her shoulders and she shivered at the fleeting brush of his feathery hair. One of his hands settled over the slope of her hip onto her lower back- a more familiar gesture with unfamiliar connotations now, seeming a slow seduction that made her suck in her stomach in anticipation. And the shock of lightning as his chest brushed her breasts… Her entire being attuned to the merest shift of his. 'Just a hug,' she thought,, licking her lips and eyeing his neck.

Then his face touched hers as he hugged her close, head falling to her shoulder, nose and mouth stroking bare skin. And platonic or not, her senses splintered. Thrusting her hands deeply into his glorious shaggy hair and clenching her fists around it, she turned her head and took that beautiful hard mouth with her own. The kiss was wild, full of the fury of her need, the savage possession. One male hand moved to her hip as the other reflexively gripped her neck. The texture of her thin camisole covered breasts against the wool of his shirt was deliciously abrasive to her sensitized flesh. He bit back, but held it, releasing the swollen lower lip with a slow concentration that had her thighs pressing together in a burst of wet heat.

His magic swelled and pulsed around them, like an aphrodisiac, a drug to her senses like she couldn't understand. How had she never noticed it before? She went to slip one hand underneath his shirt to feel that firm tan skin for real, and then he caught her wrist as if that broke the spell. "No Hermione." She made a frustrated sound and his hand tightened for a second before he dropped it and took a step back, severing the connection. "Harry." Emerald sparks flashed in those eyes, as deadly and seductive as the curse that had struck down Bellatrix mere weeks ago. "Get some rest," he said in a tone of voice so calm it was like a sheet of ice to her fiery demeanor. But the hunger still raged.

Feeling her heart spasm at the lethal edge of it, she wrapped her arms around her body. She didn't know if she was protecting herself or him. "Will you visit me again tomorrow?" Another pause. "If you want me to." He turned and was gone before she could answer. She watched him go then drew the curtains closed with fingers that had dug dark red crescents into her own arms, and crawled back into bed. But though she pulled all the blankets over her, it took a long time to stop shivering. She should feel weird about all this, but she didn't. Maybe that's what she had to worry about.

* * *

It was approximately two weeks of pretending before they trusted her enough in her new condition to let her fully out of containment, though they worried about her declining health. Personally, Hermione thought they just wanted a reason to keep her under observation, but even she had to admit she wasn't as strong as she was when she first woke from her nightmare. It was her will alone that helped her make it through that time. She'd be damned if they kept her for longer. The first half of her time was spent raging, snarling, and fighting except when her friends came to visit, which hadn't helped her case at all. So the second was spent waiting, watching and learning control with a deadly calm.

Her more… 'animalistic behavior' was something they had to learn to accept eventually, because it wasn't going to just go away, but she had no reason after the last two weeks to reveal herself quite yet. She studied her reflection in the mirror in passing and touched her face. You could hardly even tell her whole genetic structure had been changed. Because that's what she was told had happened. Nobody could find proof that Voldemort was behind anything, though the speculation still swung towards that possibility, especially knowing his love for creatures and experimentation. At least they finally conceded to the fact she had to be right about another presence at Black Lake. But why would the Dark Lord do this? And why her? Harry was a threat to him, but his mousy friend? Not that she felt so mousy now.

Even weakened a fire burned in her, and she knew if this strange sickness passed she'd be on top of the world. Hermione smiled to herself, tilting her head in thought. Snape had kept his distance almost as much as Draco Malfoy since that night she 'attacked' him and they found she had traces of vampire and something else that may be werewolf in her DNA now. And she wondered if he was as wary of her now as she used to be of him. Her friends were still trying to figure out the ramifications of her change, and she wasn't making it easy on them, so she could only imagine how an outsider felt. Though she made then think her urges had disappeared, trust wasn't something that can easily to Slytherins.

She'd felt very Slytherin-esque herself the last week though, with all the sneaking and lying she'd done. It had been alien to her nature before, but now… it was just another adaptation. A survival mechanism. Instinct. She couldn't let them know her urges had only gotten stronger instead, gotten more dangerous. She'd die before she went back into containment. Better to die free than in a cage. Hermione's nails bit into her palms in remembrance. At least she found a way around their machinations. Her expanding range of abilities for example. But she wasn't sure how much longer she could play normal, especially with them pretty much watching her every move. It made her restless. Even the cleverest of creatures can't hide their tracks forever, and there was a limit to her new power of memorization.

If only because control evaporated so quickly under the force of the hunger. Thus she'd been trying to… expand her hunting grounds, so to speak. But something told her she couldn't avoid her friends much longer. What if it was right? They drew her. Inexplicably; Harry almost irresistibly. Her rational mind saved her thus far, but she could feel it slipping away. The scent of lightning, wind and rain teased her nose and warmth flooded her limbs. Willpower dangled by a thread under the tide of need that swamped her. It had its' claws deep in her gut and she didn't know how to shake it. Or if she wanted to. All logical thought shut down and she was getting up to follow it before the transmission even registered in her brain. Choice made. Her feet led her right to the dark-haired boy. She watched him fight in the Room of Requirement- swirling and ducking and lunging in quicksilver motions as he faced fake Death Eaters and werewolves. And she waited.

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Next Chapter:

"Can you feel it?" she whispered, eyes all aglow. She could. Like a fever. A ravaging disease infiltrating, destroying what was left of the old Hermione. His fingers left imprints on the bare flesh of her arms. She felt the cadence of rushing blood through the callused pads and she responded. "For the life of me Hermione, I'm trying to battle through this to the other side, where there's logic. But your eyes…"


	9. Chapter 9

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

It was beautiful, watching those strong, fluid movements, the play of muscles clenching and releasing. Entranced, Hermione felt herself moving forward again without thought or reason, like a moth to flame. She should run, she knew suddenly. Run far and away. But she was a slave to this hunger, and the beast crouching inside her. And when he wheeled around and grabbed her so quickly, before she could think or even breathe… Her breasts were crushed by the hard wall of his chest and every nerve ending she had lit up like a keg of dynamite. She didn't even try to fight the impulse to press closer and wrap around him this time, even knowing it was an incidental move in the midst of combat. His eyes were glowing green flames, lost in the war and perhaps his own memories, reflecting a mind not fully cogneiscent of time and place.

But the heat sizzling through her limbs didn't care. The fact that none of this made sense mattered even less. The increased pounding of her heart filled her ears, body tingling, confusing her so she couldn't help but touch her lips to his neck, breathing him in. Fascinated, she studied the throbbing pulse at the base of his neck. Strong. Steady. Exhilarating. The mad urge to trace a path with her tongue and taste him more thoroughly seized her. His scent altered and her nose twitched at the subtle difference. The air around him seemed to color, darkening to a wine-red hue. His pulse thundered at the close contact. She licked her lips. His breath was rough in her ear and raised the tiny hairs at her nape.

"Can you feel it?" she whispered, eyes all aglow. She could. Like a fever. A ravaging disease infiltrating, destroying what was left of the old Hermione. His fingers left imprints on the bare flesh of her arms. She felt the cadence of rushing blood through the callused pads and she responded. "For the life of me Hermione, I'm trying to battle through this to the other side, where there's logic. But your eyes…" He didn't, or couldn't finish. But she knew. The pupils had enlarged so they almost hid the irises in eyes that seemed to swallow her face, swirling hypnotically. 'Let go,' she sent through that gaze. 'Just let go.' And when he dipped his head to cover her lips with his, she knew he'd heard her.

Warm and firm, he certainly knew what he was doing. He tasted of heat and man and she arched against him. Slanting her head, she drank the burning kiss in greedily, her nails biting into his biceps. The muscles bunched beneath her hands, desire pooling like molten lava and spreading to engulf them, her bones turning to liquid. Something dark and dangerous unfurled in her belly and a dull roar started in her ears, then a drumbeat. His heart. Her nipples hardened as his hand slid around her waist, inching up her stomach and ribs, singing her skin through the thin cotton of her shirt. One hand closed around the soft mound of her breast. Harry's handling sent wild need pumping through her bloodstream and an ache between her thighs. His stormy scent overwhelmed her and there was something so intimate about even their breaths co-mingling. The rest was just kindling.

Hers came in short, rhythmic spurts thrust her chest further into his hands, and her mouth devoured his with a savagery that should've shocked her. He took her face in one hand and angled her for his slanting mouth, reciprocating hotly. Grabbing his shoulders with both hands, she strained against him and ran her hands down his back, tongue parrying with his as her hands dropped to clutch him. How she hated the denim that stopped her from feeling the texture of his skin… Desperately driven, she let him back her into a nearby wall and spread her legs so he could settle his weight between them. And she moaned softly into his mouth as he rubbed and ground his hardness into her. Hermione tore her lips from his to drag them down his neck and he gasped as her teeth clamped down, making his body buck.

Wild for the taste of him, she pushed him backwards and down, straddling him with a strength and speed unnatural for most humans but now second nature to her. Scooting low, she ran her hands down his chest to the waistband of his jeans and, unzipping him, she found him through the opening of his boxers. Closing her hand around the length of him that was like silk and steel, she gently squeezed and the blood boiled in her veins as he pulsed in her hand, making small noises in the back of his throat. She loved the thought she was making him as crazy as she felt. She traced her thumb over the velvety tip, rubbing away the bead of moisture there.

Groaning now, Harry clamped strong hands around her arms and rolled her back under him. In a bruising kiss, he returned her earlier forceful passion and a growl sounded from deep in her throat, pleased. He thrust himself against her, driving her into the floor and she panted, mindless and lost. She had to have him. Now. on the floor. She didn't care as long as he was inside her instead of this slow tease. A deep throbbing spread through her and made her feel weak again. The rough denim on his legs scratched the sensitive skin of her inner thighs where her skirt had ridden up and her breath hitched. Tearing his shirt off, her hands roamed his naked chest, the well-developed pecs, the narrow indentation of his sternum, the flat plane of his stomach.

Hermione exalted in the freedom to touch, to feel all of him, and the energy building inside him. She wiggled in his hold to trail kisses across warm, quivering flesh, and the sound of his pants reached her and filled her with triumph. Pulling the opening of his jeans wide, she traced the line of hair ghosting below his navel tantalizingly, pointing like an arrow to his thick member. Hermione bent and pressed a moist, open-mouthed kiss at the lowest visible point. Moisture rushed between her legs, the power drugging. Needing satisfaction, she growled and yanked his pants off, eliciting a rough sound from him, that glorious chest lifting in deep ragged breaths as he made a bed appear below them.

She moved back up like a snake, her arms twining about his neck, and he ravaged her. He never broke the kiss as he lifted her up, removing the rest of her clothes and trapping her between him and the mattress. Their movements were rushed, feverish, their handling of each other rough. And it was almost perfect. He slid between her legs with expert precision and everything slowed as she stared up at him in the soft glow of the lamp. Her breath caught at the heat in his gaze, the breadth of his shoulders as he loomed over her, the narrow waist and sculpted form. Now it was his turn. And he used it well. He traced her collarbone, the slope of her shoulders, the swells of her breasts, his touch forging a blazing trail. He explored each rib, each dip and curve, driving her mad, frantic before his thumb drifted up to graze the undersides of her breasts.

"Harry," she whimpered, a low keening as he grasped both mounds firmly, squeezing, testing their fullness. A sound more animal than human. She thrust her hips, starved for more, and he answered by nudging her thighs further apart with one knee. Her hand gliding downwards, she gripped him, flexing her fingers to create a better, suctioning grip. His harsh gasp, as before, excited her and she stroked again with fast movements, feeling him pulse again for her. She teased the head of his thick member against her opening and he moved in and over, making her fingers dig into his shoulder with baited breath. But it was just another tease before he sat up, placing her on her knees before him instead, hands smoothing over each rounded cheek of her backside before biting playfully.

Another growl ripped free at the feel of his teeth on her and the ache inside her grew, so she thrust backwards, rubbing against his impressive erection. Her hands clutched the bedspread now as he pulled her back by her hair, kissing the arc of her throat before he probed her opening from behind, parting her slick folds with the swelled head of his member. Unable to help herself, Hermione pushed back again, impaling herself on him. He locked one muscled arm around her waist and held himself there for a moment, buried in the tight heat of her. His warm chest rested against her back, his heart beating fast and strong, a distant drum that echoed her own.

He swiped the hair from her neck free and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her nape as he began to move. His hand sought her breasts, cupping them as he plunged inside her. Again and again. "Harder," she demanded, rocking back to meet his every thrust. His hands carried their own special fire, branding her as he fondled her and squeezed her nipples as he moved in and out. Her flesh rippled with heightened sensation, waves of searing heat flowing through her body like lava. Her fingers could've went numb from the way she clutched the covers, tearing the fabric. She whimpered, beyond pleasure, beyond pain as the movements increased, grew more frenzied.

"Oh God," she groaned, skin burning, the feeling expanding the fill her completely. This wasn't normal, it couldn't be. She would've remembered feeling like this, the pure animalistic passion, the power blowing her senses. She moved wildly, slamming back against him, aching for… something. His hands tightened on her breasts, thrusts growing harder. Faster. Fiercer. Her body needed it, needed that desperate, furious union. Demanded it. Nothing less. She tilted her hips, clenching her inner muscles around his sliding force, trying to get more, trying to reach that elusive hurdle. His fingers fell from her chest to dig into her hips, urging her to come.

Whimpering, she dropped her head, letting herself relax into the steady build of tension tightening through her. The pressure increased. He swiped the hair from her shoulders again and dragged his mouth over the sensitive skin. Every muscle in her body suddenly contracted as his teeth clamped down, hers biting into his wrist, and she cried ecstatically as shudders wracked her, soaring over that final precipice. Under him she stilled, his chest a hard wall at her back, the only thing grounding her to earth. His hands circled her waist again and he bucked behind her, thrusting several more times, pouring his liquid fire inside her.

His groan rumbled through both of them as if they were one. Panting, she collapsed into the bed bonelessly, his hot steely length still inside her. His body came down over her, a crushing, delicious weight, the fan of his breath warm against her spine. And with his blood on her lips, his energy inside her, the greater portion of the clawing hunger tearing her up eased. She was more content than she'd been in weeks. But something was still missing. Letting out a weak growl, drained, she lay staring up at the ceiling when she envisioned Snape's face. And she slept.

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Next Chapter:

"You're hot for it," he mused, his voice husky. She shook her head in fierce denial, her hair brushing her cheeks in soft strokes. "No?" His hand slid around her to inch up her stomach and ribs. Warm fingers closed unerringly over one nipple, testing, caressing, teasing through her bra. She stifled a sob as his touch grew firmer until he was rolling and twisting the aroused peak between thumb and forefinger. "What about now?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

-Six weeks later-

Hermione could feel the wings of Harry's borrowed magic fluttering inside her for about three days this time, leaving her little room for anything else as they stretched so full it was hard to breathe at times. It wrapped around her like a blanket, coated her skin with a sheen akin to diamond dust and left her warm, satisfied. But lately she knew better than anyone that nothing lasted forever, and she already felt the edges of insanity like sharp-nailed claws creeping back over her. The hunger; stealing into her mind again and digging in. It lasted for so long the last couple times- almost exactly a week apiece. Now it was dwindling. Her being needed something else to sustain it.

But what could be more than the sips of blood and energy she'd stolen? She felt guilty enough for that. She could always move on Harry again, take him for maybe the fifth time in the last several weeks and use her charm to make him think it another dream. Though with the lapse in between the periods of hunger shortening and shortening, who knew how much a benefit it'd be anyway? Well, besides the obvious. Next time though the period of needing might be only stilled a day, even with his power. Desperation started to rise once more. And did she really want to take advantage of her best friend again? Not that he seemed to mind at all, and not that it wasn't good… but it still felt wrong. Like it felt wrong to think of Snape when she was with him.

The added strength, speed, agility and etc. were fantastic, but this? Was there any relief? Was it even worth continuing this frantic existence? 'No,' the creature inside her growled. 'That's the talk of a weakling. We're better than that.' It was extremely frustrating for her, not having control over her own mind and body when before everything had been perfectly in check. Living day to day never knowing exactly what could happen and when, if she could hurt someone or not, lose her mind or not, was scary. For the first time, a life of research and the pursuit of knowledge did no good because her stores of memory were all but lost and her days were ruled by baser instincts.

Even having studied vampires and various demon strains in that previous life did no good because her case was entirely unique. What luck. And the gentleness in her friends eyes, their protectiveness and patience, tormented her- made her want something more that they couldn't give. It would've been easier if they'd treated her as a stranger, or as any other beast of the jungle. Easier not to want so badly. Then, they hadn't treated Remus like that, and he was in a similar situation. Did he struggle with two personas as she did? Sadness swept her. It was still hard to think about him without wanting to cry. He'd been like a second father to all of them. A great loss. Damn Voldemort. The young witch with vampiric genes thought back to yesterday.

When she'd been leaning against the heavy stone wall outside the infirmary talking to her friends and Professor Snape walked by… He'd looked over only briefly, sneering, but her skin sizzled where his gaze had trailed, eliciting a strange longing, an unremitting ache that throbbed deep within her. She'd resisted its pull by turning her head, turning her body away, but it had still touched her and affected her deeply. It was the image in her mind when she'd gotten herself off that night too… several times. It frustrated half of her to have these feelings, and the other half that she'd put up all these barriers to keep him away. The mental alarm bells that sounded every time she got too close, when he wasn't able to avoid her. Her primal, instinct driven mind couldn't understand it- and her rational mind was too boggled by the other to react any other way.

Believing herself safe covered in an armored jacket of Harry's magic, their mingled blood in her veins, she'd foolishly stalked the spy. Fading into the shadows and cloaking her magical signature with her new abilities, she'd spent hours watching him, studying him. Drinking him in with her eyes, breathing in his scent. Wanting him. Apparently the armour didn't work as well as she thought. A few times she'd even tempted fate by putting herself in his path. He'd hid his reaction to the site of her in shorts and a camisole well [her usual fair with her average temp. of 103 degrees], but she could feel the rise of tension, the suppressed desire. And maybe that's why she kept going back. Because something in her hoped enough exposure and his guards would drop.

She'd tried and failed to understand it, but maybe all baser instincts were just beyond understanding. Like why she suddenly viewed him as a hero and something to be desired. And if she couldn't stop it, shouldn't she embrace it? The one called Hermione licked her lips nervously. Calculated. She didn't know why, when, what or how, but something was going to happen- time was running out. Whether it tied into the increasing call for energy, the lack of hope with Harry, or not. She watched him like he held all the answers. Like he was the key. She sighed. Yet even if her rational mind would allow her to take it, how could he help her when he avoided her like the plague? It was even worse than before. Why? In the seconds between wondering and blankness she felt a new awareness creeping in. Then she heard the voice.

"Miss Granger, may I ask exactly _what _you are doing skulking around the dungeons?" She shivered at the effect of that deep timbre. She must've let _her_ guards down now. Turning slowly, she found herself peering right into his face, and the entire world jolted and fell out of orbit. There was no sun, no moon, only him. The face from those fragments of nearly forgotten dreams. Her heart pounded in her chest hard as her body reacted suddenly and fiercely to his. 'Much more potent up close,' she noted to herself, fighting to contain the surprised squeak. He eyed her coolly, and she stared back with caution and defiance because that's all she could show. And that's all it took.

The air shifted again, colored with reds and streaks of yellow. She was so desperate now to touch him, taste him. Her former professor. She found it hard to speak, clenching her teeth to keep from lunging forward to bite him, hands curling into fists to keep from grabbing. The need hit with the power of an ocean storm, so dark and fierce it scared even her more primitive side. His hand on her elbow [meant to pull her forward or push her back she didn't know] sent an electrical shock through her. He lifted his head, eyes narrowing, and again she had that disconcerting sense of a predator catching the scent of his prey. And her hackles rose, a switch flipped inside her.

"I'm not your prey," she breathed aloud, surprising both of them. Unbeknownst to her, her eyes were glowing again. The thought she might be someone's prey, even his, was anathema to her new nature. "So it would seem. Perhaps I am yours." Shocking. The musical quality of his low-pitched voice surrounded her, wrapping her in a sensual haze that belied the starkly said words. Then the sheer force of the words struck her. How much of it was leashed in that tall, lean body? Unable to help herself, she closed her eyes and leaned in to capture his mouth in a kind of guerilla tactic.

And the heat of him, the flavor of him, the very glory of it blew through her with the power of a percussive blast. Her eyes flew back open, sure Merlin himself must've shot a bolt of lightning at her. What was this, that drenched the arid wasteland of her soul? Pleasure and pain. Ecstasy swirling like a waterspout, filling in the parched and corroded corners of her being. Pouring from him. Were these her feelings or his? Severus jerked back, looking just as shell-shocked, and something told her she'd hit the nail on the head with the second guess. A small smile curved her lips and his gaze hardened. Then he stalked away without a word.

* * *

Her control lasted for one more night. Then in the way of most people magical or not, she caved and snuck out to the Hogshead for some liquor and interaction. Unfortunately. It'd been her hope that it would both help subdue the beast inside her, and get that kiss with the Potions Master out of her head, but it just made both worse. Especially since the object of her obsession was sitting in the corner of the same bar. The moment she saw him she was bombarded with waves of desire, her body tight with need. Her weakness came back to haunt her. Why had she so boldly tested her limits? A low rumble escaped her, a strange light in her eyes as her canines elongated again.

She was just barely able to stay in her seat, the instinct to pounce was so strong. She had to get out of there. With great anxiety she slipped from her stool to hurry down the hall, out the back door, around the building… and into a wall that hadn't been there before. With a gulp she staggered back and tried to run, but strong fingers caught the end of her robes and yanked. Arms flailing, she careened back into that familiar wall of muscle. Arms came up to lock around her, squeezing her ribs until she could hardly draw air. Even panicked, she was all too conscious of the way her breasts rose and fell against his forearm, of how heavy and achy they suddenly felt, of how her nipples hardened. The air deepened into shadows of hazy scarlet and plum, mirroring her rage and excitement.

The stranger pressed his mouth close to her ear and growled in a voice that sent shivers down her spine, "Back to torment me, witch? Haven't you haunted my dreams enough?" He twisted her arms behind her back further, pulling hard. An ache throbbed at the center of her thighs. Snape. It had to be, with that tone like thunder. But how could this be the same man that avoided her like the plague? The one that pushed her away when she kissed him? The proximity of his body, the male musk of him, even his rough handling, thrilled her. _He _thrilled her. God, she was demented. Stretching both of her wrists above her head, he flattened his body along hers. She reflexively stomped at his instep and shoved back, making him curse. "Enough," he barked. Nose to nose as he spun her around, they each glared.

His comment about the dreams still hadn't registered. Their breath intermingled, all sorts of sweet smells overwhelming her, his heart hammering between them. "Stop looking at me like that," he warned, onyx eyes wild. The catch in his voice created tremors. Her breath came in short spurts that had her chest rising and falling rapidly against his. "Like what?" "Like you want me to fuck you." He was most definitely drunk. Heat suffused her face, rushing through her entire body like a firestorm. Her mouth sagged open. His accusation was ridiculous, absurd, impossible. "Right," she choked out, trying for sarcasm but sounding more like an agreement. And it was too late. The damage was done, the fuse lit at both ends by the picture his words painted. A picture she wanted to bring to life but fought just as hard.

Cocking an eyebrow, he held her closely to him. "You're hot for it," he mused, his voice husky. She shook her head in fierce denial, her hair brushing her cheeks in soft strokes. "No?" His hand slid around her to inch up her stomach and ribs. Warm fingers closed unerringly over one nipple, testing, caressing, teasing through her bra. She stifled a sob as his touch grew firmer until he was rolling and twisting the aroused peak between thumb and forefinger. "What about now?" he rasped. Mouth watering, she shook her head, refusing to surrender one syllable even if her body already had. "No?" His hand dropped from her breast. She bit her lip to stop her cry of disappointment. In one deft move, he popped the button free on her shorts and unzipped her. She hated his manipulation but craved his touch.

The backs of his fingers brushed her navel, scorching her as he delved inside her panties, his touch swift, sure, conquering. The very nature of this act, the forbidden and impropriety just made it that much hotter. He probed between her curls, played with her, brushing the spot hidden within the folds of her sex. She jerked at the contact, moaning aloud, and subconsciously parted her legs wider. His aggression and dominance both chafed and aroused further the animal side of her. Snape dipped his head close, long strands of inky black hair brushing her face. Finding her clitoris, he rolled it between his fingers, exerting enough pressure to make her shudder against his hand. "Definitely hot for it." He thrust a finger deep inside her. Her head fell back, a silent scream locked in her throat.

"God, you're so tight," he muttered, easing a second finger, then a third, stretching her, the pleasure building sweetly inside. "See." His voice washed over her, drugging, hypnotic. "You don't want to go anywhere." His words sunk into her brain, an icy chill where there'd been nothing but heat before. She wrenched away, his hand falling from her gaping shorts. Something about his tone, that was more than smugness, set her off. For several moments she could only stare at those fingers that had wrought total havoc on her, longing for them to do so again yet horrified at the loss of control and her reaction. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. He stepped closer, or tried, and instinctively her leg flashed out with lightning speed and struck him hard in the shins then again in the stomach. Snape fell flat on his backside and she ran off into the night, wondering why he unsettled her so much.

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Next Chapter:

"I expect all this is still relatively frightening and new to you. But your two minds, two personas, have been warring against each other and you must find a way to unite them." The amber-eyed witch narrowed her gaze. "What do you mean Headmaster? What am I missing?" Those crystalline eyes twinkled back at her. "Why, love of course. Someone to share your life with."


	11. Chapter 11

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Once she got to the edge of town she apparated to the gates of the castle then stormed through. Seeing Ron outside the kitchens' entrance she stopped, breathing heavily. "Where's Harry?" She needed to relieve some major tension. "On the Quidditch pitch flying, why?" "Nothing big. Needed him… his help with something. Later!" Hermione hurried back around to the giant field. He was there. Thankfully. Stomach clenching, she watched him swoop and dive, clinging to the broom and leaning in like he was part of it. It was a heady sensation. But just watching wasn't going to ease her pains. Sp she flagged him down. Her entire body hummed with need as she watched him rise higher and higher to become a silhouette, then descend in a series of slow, almost lazy circles as if he were riding the currents. Streamers of gold tracked his every movement, a wondrous light show in the black velvety sky.

He pulled up with less than a meter to spare between them and the unyielding earth, the wind off his landing hitting her with a wave of spice. After he hopped off with a grin and started towards her, she was struck with a rush of pheromones, eyes mesmerizing. "Here," the witch hybrid murmured. Just one word before she pounced, wrapping her arms around him as if starved for his taste. It was true enough, but it'd been Snape that kindled it. Knowing Harry was safely ensnared in her spell, she pressed her mouth to the angle of his jaw, licking and biting as they seemed to float back to her quarters. Against her belly he was hard and deliciously tempting. She wanted to palm the heavy length but had to satisfy herself with nipping kisses along his neck for the moment. His body was taut and straining by the time they reached the bed and she banished their clothes with a flick of her hand.

Then his hands closed over her breasts from behind, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin of her neck. A cry of pleasure was torn from her and with just a squeeze her body was slick with welcome. Harry's body was a furnace that burned her from the inside out and he held her in place as he continued the torment. "Your mouth," Hermione demanded. "I need your mouth." And just like that his tongue was thrusting against hers the way he planned to thrust into her wet sheath. "Every inch. I want your mouth on every inch of me." His low growl had her blood boiling and she moaned as he knelt in front of her and fastened his mouth to the side of her breast, sucking and biting before claiming the nipples one at a time. The sheer pleasure made her knees buckle and she would've fallen if he hadn't caught her, steadying her thighs at the same moment he was easing them apart.

He released her breast and stared at her in a way that made her sizzle. Then he raked a finger across the damp curls and she moaned encouragingly. Then he lowered his head and put his tongue on her clitoris and she went insane, helpless to do anything but stand there, bucking against his mouth until he drove three fingers into her with long hard strokes as well. She screamed and shattered as he flicked his tongue rapidly as he fingered her, plunging in and out until the tension was almost unbearably high. And he licked around her swollen clit, then fastened onto it with his lips and sucked hard until her whole body went stiff. She cried out again, shaking in her release to his mouth, her creamy wetness practically dripping from his fingers, and he moaned his delight in her- which was almost as erotic as the act itself.

"Tell me what you want now mistress," he rasped. "You," Hermione whispered, overcome. "All of you." Harry centered his turgid member over her slick opening, slamming into her to the hilt and really giving it to her. "Yes," he hissed, giving into the furious pressure to fuck her harder and faster and harder still. She bit his neck, drawing his life into her, and the fierce tsunami of passion and power swept them away once more until he collapsed on top of her and the world faded around them. And she was thankful for the moment her ache eased and she was too tired to think of Snape.

* * *

The next day her concentration on the Quidditch pitch was so intense that she didn't hear someone behind her until they spoke, even with her enhanced senses. "Quite a conundrum you face young Hermione." A voice of age and power. Slowly she turned to meet the gaze of the other, eyebrow raised coolly. "I expect all this is still relatively frightening and new to you. But your two minds, two personas, have been warring against each other and you must find a way to unite them." The amber-eyed witch narrowed her gaze. "What do you mean Headmaster? What am I missing?" Those crystalline eyes twinkled back at her. "Why, love of course. Someone to share your life with."

Confusion clouded her gaze. How was such a silly thing like that supposed to help her? He looked as if trying to choose his words carefully. "Am I right in guessing the exchange of blood and energy hasn't been enough?" Hermione hesitated a long while before nodding quietly. "There lies your answer. The vampire and werewolf in you require a mate. Your second half." His bright, annoyingly cheerful voice was almost enough to make her want to snap in her current mood. But she swallowed back the impulse. She didn't really have anyone else really able to help her and she'd been so focused on… other pursuits she hadn't been able to even attempt to help herself. But she grew frustrated. "I've tried. Several times. Harry, Ron, half a dozen others. Nothing has worked for long. How am I supposed to find this elusive _one_?"

The old wizard chuckled softly. "Same as anyone. You have to listen to your heart. You alone know what truly draws you. Power and strength only gets you so far, my dear." She ducked her head, considering what he said. "And once you find it you mustn't be afraid to go after it with everything you have." She would've scoffed at the idea of being afraid, but the truth of it and the sudden seriousness on his face startled it out of her. "It's a lonely existence that meets those who go without this love. Some even go mad or die before knowing the force of it. And we can't afford to lose you- as a person or as a fighter." They exchanged a lingering look and then he was gone, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

She saw no one in sight yet was haunted by the scents of sandalwood, saffron and firewhiskey. "Meddlesome old fool," she sighed, exasperated. "You'd think he were in Slytherin." His tactics and gentle manipulations certainly were. Yet she touched the sigil above her heart with a fond smile lifting the corners of her lips. She'd received it the night she… went feral and attacked Malfoy. The sign for protection that actually did a pretty good job in protecting her from herself. But was it doing more harm than good? Could he be right about uniting the two sides of her? Rubbish. He meant well, but the result could be disastrous, right? 'Or could do you a lot of good' the voice in the back of her mind interjected. It was a risky move. Especially if it led to Snape. She left it where it was and left the field.

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A/N: Short chapter, I know. But there's more coming soon. I realize a vampire/werewolf hybrid may sound a bit weird but they did it in Underworld and it suited my purposes [vampires in some fics drawing on blood and others energy, and wolves with their enhanced senses, mating, and full moon crazies], so i went with it. Enjoy!

Next Chapter:

But suddenly the splendor and power of the music blasted through his mental shield and maybe hers too, because he looked into her eyes and saw the depths of her soul. A perfect reflection of his. Shuddering, he felt himself falling into her, or her into him, and his eyes closed against the brightness shining back. "I love you."


	12. Chapter 12

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

* * *

**Chapter 12 **

"I need you. I know it's crazy, and I don't care, I don't *care*, I just need you. I need you inside me now." Severus heard the words and thought he must be imagining some fantasy of the mountain of gods. The most bright and intriguing woman he'd ever known, the woman whose courage and beauty and magic had captured his soul, wanted *him*. Wanted him *inside* her. Wanted him *now*. Holy Merlin's staff. The feel of her wet heat against him shot a bolt of hot lust through his body straight to his groin. He thrust two fingers inside her, as deep as they'd go, and growled a warning when she squirmed against his hand. The beast inside him that was more animal than man, that had battled and fought and killed for decades, warning her not to try to escape him.

But she said "Yes, more, yes," panting, reassuring him that she wasn't trying to get away, and the beast calmed, gave way to the man. He barely had time to wonder what the fuck was happening to him before another wave of lust rode him hard, and he groaned, as his body clenched, his hips bucking involuntarily. She was riding his fingers and rubbing her luscious breasts against him and he had to get inside her before he died. He bent his knees and lowered his head and caught a tight, perfect nipple in his mouth and sucked hard, fingers still moving inside her. He found her clit with his thumb, rubbing her in the same rhythm that his fingers were moving to, and she caught his hair in her hands and cried out his name. When she exploded around his fingers, shuddering in his grasp, he shouted out his triumph and his possession, and he turned and crossed the room in one leap with her still in his arms.

Before she could change her mind, or come to her sense and realize a battle-hardened warrior would never be enough for her, he laid her down on the bed and yanked her legs apart. Put his hands on the bottom of her thighs and held her open to him. Stared at her slick, swollen folds and murmured a promise that he would taste her soon. Would bury his face and lips and tongue in her honey and taste her until she screamed and came in his mouth. She shuddered at his words, and he lost the power of speech. He tried to tell her how beautiful she was, how special. All that came out was "Mine." She stared up at him with a passion-drenched gaze, panting from her orgasm, desire still sparkling in the glorious gold of her eyes. "Severus?" "Mine," he repeated, unable to form words, unable to understand them.

Why could she still talk? She moved, lifted a hand to push a strand of hair from her face, and the motion triggered the predator, the conqueror inside him who demanded that he stake a claim on this woman. His woman. "Mine. *Now*," he growled, and then he centered himself over her and looked into her eyes once more, sanity trying to raise its head, honor giving her one last chance to change her mind. But she smiled up at him and nodded and said the most beautiful word he'd ever heard. "Yes." At that moment he shifted so that he no longer blocked the window and the moonlight that shone across her body transformed her into the goddess from his dreams. He just stared in wonder for a long moment, wondering how he'd never before noticed that she was the one. He even understood on a primal level that he was about to make love to a goddess turned human, but he didn't care what price he had to pay- she was *his*.

In one powerful thrust, he drove his cock all the way into her slick heat and he shouted again, shouted her name, shouted his claiming in Latin, the only language his boggled brain could remember. She clenched around him and cried out, wrapping her legs around his waist and digging her heels into his ass, not pushing him away but pulling him closer- and he was all to eager to comply. Oh thank Merlin. Leaning in and capturing her lips once more, he kissed her until he was inhaling her breath and magic and soul. "Say my name Hermione. Tell me you want me, and only me," he demanded, slowly pulling out of her then plunging back in, over and over, speeding up rhythm in response to the little moans and gasps she made underneath him.

"I… yes… oh… wow…. Severus….," she breathed heavily, "I want you. Oh Gods, I want you! More than anything I've ever wanted in my life~" Some primitive instinct deep down in the savage waters of his genetic ancestry roared out its triumph. Every muscle in his body tightened at the sound of his name in her lilting voice. His cock swelled and hardened impossibly until the friction from her tight, wet sheath drove him insane with sensation. He drove harder and deeper, farther with every stroke. Hermione suddenly gasped, dragging her nails down his back, and tightened around him as she exploded, crying out his name as she came. The force of her orgasm drove him over the edge, and he thrust into her as far as he could go and kept still, holding her tightly in his arms while his release pulsed into her. The he collapsed beside her, pulling her with him so he remained in her body, careful not to crush her with his weight.

"Severus, I-" she began before making a funny little gasping sound, and the music that had been soaring through the room exploded in his head. A rainbow of music, a sunrise of melodies, floated, spiraled through the room and through both of them, and the force of it slammed Severus back against the pillows, still clutching Hermione in his arms, satiation giving away to another impossibly powerful, driving hunger. But suddenly the splendor and power of the music blasted through his mental shield and maybe hers too, because he looked into her eyes and saw the depths of her soul. A perfect reflection of his. Shuddering, he felt himself falling into her, or her into him, and his eyes closed against the brightness shining back. "I love you." Severus Snape woke up from the dream [nightmare?] drenched in sweat, tangled in his sheets, and slightly fearful. "Bloody Hell."

* * *

Hermione kicked herself out of her wanderings as he wheeled around and strode towards her so swiftly that he'd already halted in front of her before she could think, move, or even breathe. Staring deep into her eyes, his own gaze as if daring her to stop him, he put his arm around her wait and pulled her to his chest. Every nerve ending she had went from zero to sixty at the feel of him, and she fought the mad urge to snuggle closer. Just the way he looked at her, like he'd like to strip her and take her up against the wall, had been enough to make her hot and wet. He turned his head so she felt his warm breath in her ear, and her traitorous body trembled.

Her cheeks burned. It was one thing to desire the dark, sarcastic, and often cruel man who'd delighted in tearing her down for years- it was completely another to let him know it. But his next words gave her pause. "I, who had always prided myself on being entirely rational, find any semblance of calm or logic has deserted me at the touch of you." He pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck, making her shiver again. She put her hands on his chest, realizing in a dim, hazy corner of her mind that this was dangerous. _He _was dangerous. Yet all of a sudden she didn't care. She'd been captured by the silken web of sensuality he wove. With all her skill for words, she couldn't find one to tell him to let her go.

His lips traveled up the side of her neck then nipped at her earlobe and she cried out at the bolt of pure lust that shot through her, causing her thighs to clench together. "I want you Hermione," he murmured huskily in a voice that should've been illegal on all seven continents. Musical, deep, and darkly seductive, the sound of it in her ear was almost enough to make her start tearing at his clothes until she could put her hands and mouth on that hot male skin. The plainly stated words were just as powerful. That alone startled enough to give her pause. "We can't," she breathed as his gaze grew bolder. She was scared of such passion, and how it could change her life. "It…it isn't right." He began to unbutton his shirt, one button by one torturous button to bare and expanse of tantalizing flesh.

"I have spent the last two decades of my life doing what I felt was right, that I was obligated to or that seemed reasonable. Now I have a chance to do for myself, to feel again, and I want to wrap myself in every moment of it. I want to wrap myself in _you_." "But-well-" Hermione suddenly couldn't find a good reason to disagree with him and her resolve weakened further with every button. When he pulled off his shirt in one swift movement and dropped it to the floor, her mind shut down completely, an inferno of desire searing away what was left of that resolve. His gaze now was that of a predator as he came closer, and she felt a shiver of unease mixed with excitement.

She'd unleashed something with her actions and now she lay vulnerable before him awaiting the consequences. Impossibly, their desires had become entangled together, and they became more vitally integral to each other than she could even understand. She realized on a fathoms deep level what she felt for him transcended the mundane reality of days, months or years, her soul called to him, and he answered it. He wanted everything she was and planned to take it. And God help them both if she ran. Melting, helpless before the primal onslaught of passion, she slipped and he caught her, pulling her tight to him once more. And catching her wrists in his hand, he held them up over her head. "So perfect, so delicious," he rasped, trailing his mouth down her neck and biting down on the sensitive curve there.

Heat scorched her, a delectable fullness and tingling invading her limbs and making her writhe under him, seeking more. "So wet," he said, voice rough with need. And she wanted to bite him back. Put her mouth all over him and taste him. But most of all she needed- _needed_. He stood back just enough to make his pants vanish and his erection was huge, jutting out in front of him. And he didn't stop there, didn't hesitate, but quickly took her. But she was more than ready- had been since she first even heard his voice pour over her like dark chocolate, or poison… And in a blink they were on the bed with him on top of her, her without clothes as well and him clearly intent on only one goal. Finally.

He spread her thighs with his masterful hands and entered her with one powerful thrust, as deep as he could go, until she cried out from the pressure and fullness and the ecstasy of having what she wanted so badly, exactly where she wanted him. "Mine," he said, withdrawing and thrusting into her again and again. Long, powerful strokes; claiming strokes, dominance and possession in every movement of his hips. "Mine and mine alone." She wrapped her legs around him, digging her heels into the hard muscles of his thighs, and he lapsed into murmured endearments or offered promises and oh, oh! She'd never felt anything so amazing.

"More," she gasped out, delirious with need, poised on the edge of some momentous fulfillment. "Mine," he growled, pulling back an inch, almost withholding. Whimpering, she arched up. "Yours! Oh God, yours! Just-don't-stop-" She panted and cried out as he gave it to her again and she sank her fangs into him. Then she was gone, flying up and over the stars themselves. Or through the ceiling into the sky, the taste of him like liquid fire, a free fall into ecstasy and release unimaginably bright. Her orgasm must've triggered his, because he drove into her one final time, deeper and harder than ever before, and then his lithe body shuddered over her as he poured himself into her.

She had a moment for sanity and common sense to return, with thoughts of their impossible future, before all of that vanished under a storm of pure sensation and unbearably beautiful light and color. 'Mine,' echoed inside her head in her own voice. 'Forever.' More distant sounding. She was falling, but somehow falling… up? Sideways? No. _Into_. She was falling into her lovers' soul. And it scared her to death. Then Hermione woke up, panting and screaming, covered in sweat with all the sheets tumbled to the floor. "Shit."

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Next Chapter:

Hermione nodded and quickly turned to leave, hair swinging about her shoulders, though everyone else stayed still. "Voldemort is active again." That one sober statement from Harry stopped her dead in her tracks. She spun back around, hellfire in her eyes. "_What_?" Dumbledore stayed silent, and Ron was looking at the brunette as if he wanted to shut his friend up.


	13. Chapter 13

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

**A/N: **Thanks, of course, to everyone who has reviewed thus far. Each one goes a long way to cheering me up ^_^ And please, don't forget to review some more!

* * *

**Chapter 13 **

She spent her morning hours in the Room of Requirement angrily battling enchanted opponents instead of having breakfast with Dumbledore and the rest. It'd just be too difficult now- like it had been the first day or so since she'd woken up from the incident at Black Lake. Both because of the madness creeping back up on her with her usual stress relief no longer working, and because of her irritation at the dream. And with that blasted old wizards unerring insight and advice, she didn't need him in her head telling her to follow those instincts. Merging personas? What a joke, The animal side overwhelmed her, took her by surprise, and usually at the most inconvenient times- like with Snape. At least she'd been doing a decent job at avoiding him like he'd avoided her. With one or two exceptions.

Was it that the dominant side was cowed by him and his darker, more dangerous nature? Or the fact that her more reasonable human side [what was essentially _her_, right?] was finally asserting itself? Did it recognize the clear threat to her sanity, her heart and soul? She winced at the last thought. No, she wasn't afraid of the last two at all. Except that maybe if her… instincts had been given free reign they would've been squashed and the embarrassment would've killed her. That's it. It was laughable to think he could be a threat to anything but her sanity. He wasn't affected at all by her new abilities it seemed, still thought her simply a nuisance and 'insufferable know-it-all.' That scene in the alley was a drunken mistake. Though when her impulses had made her kiss him in the hallway by his portrait, he _had_ kissed her back for a full three seconds… And despite the snarky behavior afterwards, his words about still lingered. Him? Prey?

Was he calling her out about her stalking, or was it a subconscious admission on his part that he was huntable/felt captured by her? No, that'd be even more ridiculous than imagining he posed a risk to her heart. Him taken by her? Hypnotized? Him actually wanting her or her kiss or admitting a potential weakness? What had she been thinking? The misunderstanding was much more plausible. Her mind eased a little now she answered some of the more difficult questions. She delivered a spin kick to a dummy Death Eater and signaled for the program to shut down. She'd been at it for a few hours now, well, more like six or seven, and needed a meal and small break. The room could provide both, eliminating the potential risk of exposure to Snape and the risk of venturing out, she debated.

With that hunger so close to the surface, it _would_ be ideal. But weighed with the knowledge that her friends would worry _and_ come looking for her if they hadn't already, it gave her pause. They thought she didn't know about their 'honor guard' but once more they underestimated her and her abilities. She'd requisitioned the Marauders' map in secrecy, but they still had methods, people… Hissing, she ran a hand through her hair and trudged out, sticking her wand in the back pocket of her loose robe. But as she did, she belatedly realized that she might need to wash up. And a luxury bathroom appeared seconds later. 'Much more enjoyable than a spell,' she thought, pleased. And it gave her another excuse to delay in finding her friends for lunch.

Stripping slowly, still frustrated, she turned to step inside when she caught her reflection in the mirror. The sight still startled her, having worked to avoid looking all this time, wanting to believe she was yet her old self. Those eyes [she didn't consider them hers, exactly] stood out starkly against her angular face, a haunting reminder of what she'd become. Large, glowing gold orbs, hair that was honey mixed with russet and ruby tangled about her shoulders, a body that was so much thinner and leaner than she'd been used to for so long. She splayed a hand across her rib cage. How had she not noticed this much of a difference? Denial was truly a powerful thing. She'd never been overweight exactly, but her ribs had never jutted out from her skin before.

She angled her head, inspecting herself in the fogging mirror. It wasn't only weight-loss either. Her body was toned now, muscles sharply defined as they'd never been before, vitality humming from her skin. Not bad, she concluded. Just not _her_. But did she really miss her old self? The shadow everyone had overlooked? A shadow Snape overlooked? Her hands curled into fists at her side and she fought the urge to punch something. It didn't matter. _Shouldn't_ matter. It was irreversible anyway. Stepping into the shower, Hermione let the water pound against her skin and time stopped as she washed her hair. The warm liquid permeating her body relaxed her muscles and a sigh slipped from her lips. Just what she needed. As her hands ran over her body, slick with soap, she pictured Severus and her hormones raged. 'Fun time.'

It was at least a half hour before she stepped out and wrapped herself in one of the fluffy white towels, still tingling from another sort of physical activity. Rubbing down her hair, it took another moment to realize her jeans and tank-top were gone. She grew agitated until she realized there was a little red dress in their place. Eyes widening a fraction, she remembered thinking she needed a cooler outfit to wear after her work-out. 'Be careful what you wish for, right?' she thought with bemusement. Especially as the Room of Requirement seemed to have a weird sense of humor at times. Part of her approved but the other part was shocked and appalled. That was worse than the shorts and camisole she wore so often due to her high temperatures. Maybe something that covered better and provided more mobility…

A red corset-like top that laced down the front appeared with tight leather pants sporting the same laces nearly up to the hips. She was about to complain that the leather might not be as cool, but she feared what the room would decide to provide her with next. "At least the laces make it a bit more… breathable," she murmured. 'It _would_ be very easy to take off…' the voice in her head whispered back. She paused, blushing. "What?" 'Just try it,' it coaxed. 'One minute, I promise you'll like it.' Hesitating, she complied. Well, if it was just a minute… It wasn't _her_, but the effect in the mirror was stunning. She looked like a sleek jungle cat. 'One more thing.' "Hold on, why is this necessary?" 'Trust me.' Sighing, she applied the make-up, assessing the glossy pout and smoky eyes. 'Perfect.' Ok, _now_ she was ready to face the world.

The reactions from those she passed in the hall were almost as entertaining as the ones she got strolling into Dumbledore's office [after getting her summons]. The wily old wizard was wearing a look between amusement and analyzing, her old Transfigurations teacher seemed scandalized but curious, her two friends stunned but interesting and Snape… all that was clear was the spark in his eyes. His brow barely even twitched. Somewhat anti-climactic. Until she saw his gaze trail hotly over her like Ron and Harry's had.

She hid a smile. 'See, it wasn't for nothing.' She didn't bother asking it why she was trying to impress Snape. He still thought her insufferable. He still scared her. 'Wait and see.' "You wanted to see me Headmaster?" The words poured out like warm honey and Hermione could almost feel the effect of it ripple through the room. "Simply concerned, dear girl. You've been one half the day." "Not gone… just occupied," she replied almost defensively. "I was… working off some intense energy with a little physical exercise." Her gaze lit on Snape and she thought of what she'd done in the shower. He looked away as if he knew what was on her mind. 'Victory.'

Glancing back to Dumbledore pointedly, she raised a brow. "Is that it? Are we done with the health check now?" He cleared his throat, shaking himself as if from a dream, "Yes, well I believe that answers that. Just please keep us informed next time." Hermione nodded and quickly turned to leave, hair swinging about her shoulders, though everyone else stayed still. "Voldemort is active again." That one sober statement from Harry stopped her dead in her tracks. She spun back around, hellfire in her eyes. "_What_?" Dumbledore stayed silent, and Ron was looking at the brunette as if he wanted to shut his friend up. Worried for her mental health again?

A deep growl rumbled out of her, lips pulled back into a snarl and fangs flashing. "_Where_?" Spoken in a low tone drawn out over several ice-coated syllables, it was something to inspire fear. "Hogsmeade. He's getting bolder with his attacks." Her breath escaped her in a hiss. Far too close to home. Harry was right, he _was _growing overly bold. Or simply foolish. "Casualties?" Clipped and to the point. "Over a hundred," the redhead finally replied in a tired and hollow tone, eyes glazing over. Right away she knew his brothers, with their joke shop, were gone. And maybe more of their friends. Her nails sharpened, biting into her palm, energy crackling around her. "Measures taken?"

"The Order has been briefed and Aurors have been dispatched to help the survivors. A few are following any leads." Her eyes, which had closed in difference to her friends' grief, slowly opened again. "And that's it? Why aren't we there chasing those bastards too?" The words burst out angrily. She remembered all too clearly her parents' murder and how little the Aurors had helped. "Hermione, there is not much that we can do at this point-" Dumbledore tried to calm her. "Bullshit! There's plenty we can do! There are specific tracking spells, known hide-outs-" "You are still in an unstable condition and Ron-" "Ron's fine! He has his magic back, and I'm sure he wants to see those responsible dead too!"

She looked back to the other 18-year-old, "Aren't you?" He barely had time to reply with more than a hesitant nod when she turned back to her _former_ mentor, "And I am far from an 'unstable condition!' I feel better than I have in a long time!" "Hermione-" the old man tried again. "No! I'm done with this tip-toeing crap, I'm outta here. Anyone who has the guts can follow me." Nobody moved. "Fine, I guess I'm on my own." Eyes glowing so brightly they hurt to look upon, she stormed down the stairs and out the main doors, fully intent on facing the band of Death Eaters herself. She'll show them all up for underestimating her and bailing out on the chase. Safety didn't win wars.

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She could've died then. She could've died in that hellish in-between place too. She never would've known what hit her. Never would've seen his face looking at her with concern or desire. Never would've felt the things she did for him, bad or good. Never would've touched him, or tasted him. 'If you care at all for any of them, you will end this before they get hurt. Before your hunger or your recklessness kills them.'


	14. Chapter 14

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

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**Chapter 14 **

The dark-haired spy found her bleeding and barely conscious on the floor of the great hall. She didn't even have the energy to make it to the medical ward without anyone seeing her. But surprisingly, except for a few choice expletives, he didn't tear into her. Thank goodness for small mercies, she thought tiredly. She'd taken out a lot of men after she'd finally tracked them down, even nearly getting her hands on Lucius Malfoy, but as she'd turned to leave one had surprised her and fired some nasty spells. "You could've been killed," he said detachedly. "I know." "Foolish hot-headed Gryffindors." She summoned up a weak smile. She didn't want to reply that it was worth it because he was holding her. The beast inside her was purring at his touch.

Surprisingly instead of the medical ward he took her back to her room that was just a few feet from it. She didn't ask him how he knew the password, she figured the Headmaster had given it to him. "One of the hexes that hit you is slowly shutting down major organs like your heart and lungs, it's working like a poison. It's a very complicated hex, it's going to take a while to heal," he murmured, taking vials from a pouch inside his robes. She knew it was habit to carry them after two decades of service to Voldemort. "Figures." She was getting light- headed and it was getting hard to breath. He lifted her head, raising the bottles to her lips and helping her to swallow. Hermione was surprised again at his gentle treatment and lack of 'I told you so's'. Peering at him from under her fringed bangs, she tried to discern his motives or his thoughts/feelings but came up with nothing.

He murmured his spells, his oddly graceful hands poised over her body, and she closed her eyes, letting the soothing warmth seep over her. "It was incredibly stupid to just rush off like that without planning or back-up." Her brow furrowed even as the painful pinching on her lungs eased. "Then why help me? Why not let them find me?" She heard him sigh, "What good would it do our cause to have you locked away in a misguided attempt to save you?" She cracked an eye, coughing at the sudden rush of air to her lungs, "Is that your way of telling me you need me?" "Hardly." She had a feeling that he was lying but couldn't tell for certain. He was too practiced at deception. The various cuts on her body started to knit up and fade with a few more soft-spoken words. "Then-"

"I still find you completely insufferable, I just have too much invested in this cause to lose now because you Gryffindors don't know what you're doing." She tried to hide just how much that hurt her. "And you're still a snarky dungeon bat," Hermione retorted childishly. He didn't dignify that with a response, just continued working, which made her feel even pettier. Probably his plan all along, she thought with a pout. Then she felt a sharp pain in her head and a brilliant white light flashed right behind her eyelids, then an all too familiar intrusion. Before she could speak she was plunged into the memory of the attack and she couldn't shake it off as she was forced to relieve each curse, each cut, each kill. She was swamped by it and it stole her voice. Until it kept cycling backwards so she found herself in a memory of her intimately locked with Harry. He backed out with a sudden rush of air, clearly shocked and then as they just stared at each other.

Then they heard a knock at the door and the aforementioned friends' voice. "I heard your voice, are you alright Hermione? I have dinner." Apologetically, she reached out to him and Snape jolted up out of his chair, looking at her with disgust. "Severus-" she started groggily, feeling the need to explain even if he hated her and didn't care. "That formal use of my name is not only inappropriate but highly offensive, _Miss _Granger. I'd deduct fifty house points for your temerity, but as school is not in session I'll just have to remind you to use my proper title." Then he whirled out of the room. She fought the urge not to call after him.

Watching him leave after pretty much saving her life, Hermione was filled with a bevy of conflicting emotions… the foremost being an odd sense of shame and loneliness. She shouldn't be surprised, just because they'd shared maybe two moments of something other than derision or avoidance. This was his usual behavior, so she should feel relieved. She knew how to handle his usual behavior- it was the other stuff that shook her. So why didn't she feel relived? Rolling over, she told Harry she wasn't hungry and had to convince him to leave. He only made her ache worse right now. Cause or not, he could've gotten anyone else to take care of her. Pomphrey knew how to be discreet- to a point. What a mess.

This was what she was afraid of, she realized with a small pang of sadness. Giving in to her urges and investing any emotion whatsoever into it, then having him just walk away from her like she was nothing. Or blowing it before they even had a chance because of some flaw in her character or because he looked inside and found her wanting. Punching her pillow, she wondered again why he mattered so much to her, if it would've been different if she'd been normal. How she ached to touch him… Inside she was feeling all cagey again, like the creature there was angry at her, or hungry despite feeding on the Death Eaters. But Sev-Snape didn't want her touch. Didn't want closeness from her in any kind. What had changed, when he had seemed to tolerate her just fine just moments ago?

The small flames of hope she'd been nurturing deep in her heart sputtered out and only then did she recognize them for what they were. Had she seriously considered him a prospect, or a goal to reach after Harry failed to work for her? Maybe she was more screwed up after that Lake incident than she thought. She was uncontrollable, this thing inside her was uncontrollable. Somebody should just put her out of her misery and keep her from doing this crazy shit anymore. Like attacking innocent people in Hogwarts [not that Malfoy was entirely innocent], or risking everything to storm off and kill Death Eaters by herself, or going after Snape. She felt sick inside and tears trickled down her cheeks. No wonder most of the castles' occupants wanted nothing to do with her. No wonder Snape didn't want her.

'There's no other choice. You are one of us now. You can't undo it.' The insidious voice crept into the back of her mind like poison. It was different than before, hateful. But it was right. She wasn't herself anymore, wasn't even human, and she was a danger to everyone around her. She touched her sharpened teeth and blood welled on her fingertips. Weird how that made her hungry too. Licking her lips, she remembered the one kiss she'd shared with the object of her desire. She'd kill to press her lips to his once more and kiss him until the nightmare faded. Insanity. She drew a deep, shuddering breath. Instantly she recalled every detail of the night at the Lake with startling clarity, shaking at the memory of those sharp claws digging into her, tearing her flesh open as blackness seeped in.

She could've died then. She could've died in that hellish in-between place too. She never would've known what hit her. Never would've seen his face looking at her with concern or desire. Never would've felt the things she did for him, bad or good. Never would've touched him, or tasted him. 'If you care at all for any of them, you will end this before they get hurt. Before your hunger or your recklessness kills them.' She lurched from the cot, throat knotted with emotion. What was she waiting for? To attack someone else? For someone to get the nerve to kill her? She swallowed past the thickness in her throat. She cared too much for them to do that to them. Hermione clutched her pillow, nuzzling it to her cheek, seeking what comfort she could while she waited.

She vowed she wouldn't leave this task to any of them. Not her best friends/one time lovers. Not Minerva, who was like a second mom to her. Not Dumbledore, who cared too much for those under his charge. And not Snape, though she was sure he'd love to have the honor. She would not add to this. She pressed her lips into a firm line. The waxing moon outside was oddly insistent she do something, feeding into the power and the beast inside her that demanded _more_ to sate its dark appetite. It was growing. No more lying to herself. The voice knew the truth- so did she. She struggled with the urge to go to her friends, to hug them and tell them 'good night' because she couldn't say 'goodbye.' She was sure they could take one look at her and know something was up.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the hall and she held her breath, heart aching imagining Snape standing there, imagining him looking in on her. Silently she begged him to enter, to give her one more memory, something to take into eternity with her. But at least he moved on, his footsteps receding down the hall again. And the breath escaped her lips in an almost disappointed sigh. She would wait until his watch ended. Until they thought her asleep from the "calming" draught he'd left next to the bed. They'd never hear her creep down the hall and up to the Astronomy tower. Never realize what had happened until it was all over.

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"Damn you," she hissed, hot tears pricking her eyes. He grappled for her flailing hands. Giving up, he folded her into his arms and jerked her against him, chest to heaving chest. She struggled until they _both _fell back down. "Why are you doing this?" she cried, the floor cold and unforgiving beneath her. "If you can't do it, just let-" He silenced her with a hard kiss.


	15. Chapter 15

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

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**Chapter 15**

-Three hours later-

In the still she grabbed the spelled case where Snape had decided to put her wand to keep her from trouble, knowing she couldn't open it here without alerting someone. It was easy to detach it from the wall with her enhanced strength and sneak it upstairs to the remaining tower. Now she'd reached the decision she was anxious to get it over with. While she still had the courage. Sitting on the cold stone floor, she used a good deal of her energy just trying to break the wards on the box, especially to do it in secret. But finally she held the cool, dark wood in her hands. And she sighed a tired sigh, the aftereffects of the curse with leaving with just enough strength to do what she had to and not much else.

Her fingers curled around the instrument like a devils' snare curled around its prey, and she studied it listlessly as she sat on the floor. "What am I doing?" The answer came back quickly that low hiss, 'Ending it. For your friends. For yourself. For the world.' It was the right thing to do- the _responsible_ thing, even if it went against every instinct she had. Deep in their hearts they had to know that too. She'd seen the truth in their faces after she'd attacked Malfoy. After she almost killed another Slytherin when he'd pulled a dark spell on her in the hall her first week back in the land of the living. She would spare then the burden of AK'ing her. Hermione lifted her trembling arm and pointed the wands tip at her head, the kiss of the metal tip cold on her skin. It wobbled so much she brought her other hand up to steady it.

Jamming her eyes hut, her lips began to move. "You're going to make a horrible mess up here." She gasped and her head snapped around. There was a flash of movement as the wand was shot out of her hand by a gust of wind. It clattered to the floor several feet away. Heart hammering, she eyed the man filling the doorway. "How did you find me?" Snape thumbed his pocket, the gesture somewhat weary, "You were sneaky enough, but after I passed your room to find you missing Potter gave me this interesting piece of parchment that let me locate you." She mutely shook her head. Traitorous map. Traitorous friends for sending _him_ to get her. He chuckled, "I'm sure you're disappointed to find _me_ here. Didn't miss me I take it?" "No," she snapped, her lips burning in memory of that kiss, refuting her words.

Her gaze shifted to the wand. "I can't let you harm yourself." His words rang ominously. He stepped fully into the room, his shadow falling over her. His dark gaze slid over her bare legs splayed on the stone. The air thickened. A ripple of awareness crossed between them and she watched the shining centers of his eyes dilate. The pulse at his neck beat faster. Their gazes locked. A loud drumbeat filled her ears. _His heart._ She knew it was impossible to hear the pounding heart across a few feet, but she was certain. It was. He advanced, yanking her to her feet. Her heart contracted at the sexy tilt of his lips even though she knew it was mocking her physical reaction to him.

"If there was harm I wouldn't have felt it long," she rasped, trying to jerk her arm back without success. Fury choked her, yet a small thread of relief niggled behind it. His eyes glittered in the dark room, his tall, lean figure lined with the moonlight spilling through the one window. "Never took you for the cowardly type." With a ragged cry, she flung herself at him over the remaining few inches, beating his chest, arms, anything her fists made contact with. For once she was oblivious to the feel of his body against hers. He had no idea how much strength of will it took for her to just lift that wand to her own head. No idea how much she wanted to survive inside. Especially because it felt as if she had never truly lived before she touched him, kissed him. Before she'd been… infected.

It had taken every once of courage she had to lift it, every drop of love in her heart… for her friends. "Damn you," she hissed, hot tears pricking her eyes. He grappled for her flailing hands. Giving up, he folded her into his arms and jerked her against him, chest to heaving chest. She struggled until they _both _fell back down. "Why are you doing this?" she cried, the floor cold and unforgiving beneath her. "If you can't do it, just let-" He silenced her with a hard kiss. She tasted blood. Her own, as hard as his pressed against hers. But that's not what made her push away. "I'm not some subject of pity or an outlet for some twisted fantasy that you can just discard," irony since she'd thus used others, "Don't toy with me like I'm nothing, like I'm-"

Apparently he was indulging her because he repeated his previous actions savagely, tightening his hold on her so she couldn't escape again. The beast in her purred and the rest of her went limp in surrender. She was helpless to her desire, to the needs he roused in her. Her arms snaked around his neck, his skin warm and supple beneath her arms. He ravaged her mouth, never breaking the kiss as he swung her into his arms and portkeyed them to his room. The mix of pleasure and pain was a heady aphrodisiac and she didn't even notice as he carried her to the bed, covering her with his hard body as his mouth simply devoured hers.

His hands moved over her roughly, swift and feverish, never breaking the kiss as he wandlessly and wordlessly made her clothes disappear too. Then he was everywhere. Her breasts, her hips, seizing her bottom in his hands to pull her against him and grind his erection against her. Hungry, starved for the taste of him, she slid down his body and straddled his thighs. Never taking her eyes off him, she dipped her head and closed her lips around his thick shaft curiously. Tongue swirling around the plump head, she sucked, delighting as he involuntarily spasmed, surging off the bed and thrusting deeper into her mouth. Groaning, his hands fisted in her hair as he worked his hips.

She sucked harder, twisting and turning her tongue over the delicious length of him, salty and warm, telling herself it was just the beast in her that needed the taste of his flesh. That it was only the vampire blood infusing her, replacing her own, that fed off his pleasure as much as the energy and power. That it was only _that_ part of her that bade her to employ her teeth to drive him crazy as well, that implied threat of pain on pleasure erotic. With a growl, he wrenched away and tossed her on her back, his mouth claiming hers again as he impaled her in one hard thrust. Hermione screamed at the engorged heat filling her.

She grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging his head back so that she could kiss his arched neck, licking and nipping at the tendons stretched taught along his exposed throat. It drew a bit of blood and she lapped it up as she used her tongue to sooth the scratch. He groaned, a deep animal sounds of need. Pulling backward, Snape drove into her again, the force sinking her deep into the mattress. He grabbed her hands and placed them on his warm chest. His heart thumped beneath her palm, a distant drum that echoed the pounding of her own pulse. Those black eyes burned with an intensity that stole her breath- partially because she knew hers glowed too, and the image of her reflected there awed her.

His hands carried their own special brand, singing her cheeks where he held her face and better angled her mouth for his questing tongue. Her flesh rippled with heightened sensation as he dragged himself in and out of her. Magic clouded the air and waves of searing heat flowed through her like roiling lava. Her hands fell limply beside her head and she whimpered, beyond pleasure, beyond pain. It was the most incredible feeling she'd had in her entire life- in both lives. It blew everything, every _one _else way out of the water. He grabbed hold of one leg, his hand a searing band behind her knee as he stretched her leg back, angling for deeper penetration.

Her head flew off the pillow, a shuddering cry rising from deep in her chest that was more like a hoarse scream. She groaned, her skin burning, the ache in her belly twisting tighter. Each thrust left her writhing beneath him more. Her hands grabbed his shoulders, his back, his buttocks, the extended nails leaving scratches she knew only added to the fun. She moved wildly, searching, aching for the building climax. Severus grabbed her hands, trapping them on the pillow on either side of her head. His fingers laced through hers and it touched her far deeper than… the lower connection. Palm to palm, their gazes locked, his eyes gleaming down at her knowingly, it was almost spiritual. His thrusts grew harder. Faster. Intense. She tilted her hips, shifting beneath him, trying to get closer, trying to take more. He wrapped an arm around her waist. In one fluid motion, he flipped her so she sat on top.

"Go on," he ordered commandingly, fingers now digging into her hips, urging her to move. "Ride me." She didn't wait for another invitation. Instinct took over and she rode him hard, hands pressed against his chest for leverage. Whimpering, she dropped her head and worked her hips furiously, laboring until a fine sheen of perspiration coated both of them. Her hips never ceased their frenzied dance, bucking and rollicking. She took him in and out of her in hard, rapid-fire pumps. The pressure increased, building. He swiped the hair from her face and dragged her mouth down for a bruising kiss. Every muscle in her body suddenly tightened and contracted. She tore her mouth away and cried as shudders wracked her, instead sinking her teeth back into his neck to drink from him.

She drank of his passion, his pain, his hate, and his… affection. She drank in his desires and his fears, his strengths and his weaknesses. And only when she felt him physically falter did she ease up, ecstasy taking her soaring over that final precipice. Arched over him she stilled, her hands slippery where they clutched his chest. His hands circled her waist and he bucked beneath her, thrusting several more times. His groan thundered through him into her. Panting, she collapsed against him, never happier at that moment to be alive. Not wanting to spoil it with words, she just kissed him softly. It seemed only fitting their first time be like this- rough and dark as vengeance but coming to a sweet finish. In the seconds between murmuring a cleaning spell and drifting of, she didn't worry about what came next. Or that it couldn't last. She just savored it.

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Next Chapter:

The mercury of his climax filled her anew with a sense of liquid, burning fire. She was mere seconds behind, teeth clamping over his neck, drawing his saccharine blood inside her body and setting off the cataclysmic reaction. The beast inside her purred her satisfaction, glowing golden eyes seeming to peer out at her from behind the veil. _'Mine. Forever.'_


	16. Chapter 16

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

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**Chapter 16**

Morning again found her in the Room of Requirement beating the stuffing out of the very same Death Eater dummies. Her internal clock had thankfully woken her at precisely four o'clock- which gave her plenty of time to make a quiet, graceful exit. Her observations had told her that Severus [Snape?] usually got up around five. Even with the events of the previous night, she had no way of knowing how that 'morning after' thing might've gone. And she had no intention of finding out. But in those few precious moments when she first woke, before common sense kicked in… She sighed.

Just remembering that night she was flooded with desire… and that something else she couldn't, wouldn't, put a name to. The golden rays of the light filtering in from the ceiling touched her, and so had a strange tenderness. It didn't detract from the hunger, just somehow softened it. It was so unlike the primal edge of the passion they'd shared. His features in sleep were so much… gentler, as odd as it seemed to apply that word to him. Younger. She'd marveled at that difference for a long while, and she had to stop herself from fondly stroking her cheek. There was no place for that fondness here, and the urge had been disconcerting. How she had itched to brush back those thick black locks from his face!

After that she had hurriedly dressed and ran out of there like the dogs of hell were on her heels- with only ten minutes left before he usually woke. She couldn't believe she'd been staring that long, lost in her own little world. Now it was after lunch and she was still hiding out there again. Though at least she remembered to leave a note for Harry, so they wouldn't worry. Wiping her brow, she waited for the meal provided by the magic of the room. It had scared her to see and feel all the things she had with Snape, no matter how pleasant they'd been at the time. It was a shame her new abilities didn't affect him- she badly wanted to erase those hours from his head. Hers too, actually. The strength of her response to him was almost embarrassing. And the ramifications could be disastrous.

Her cheeks flushed recalling the memory of what he saw in her head the night he'd patched her up. That had been both embarrassing and disastrous too. But it was his reaction that she'd been interested in. Amidst the shock and disgust, there'd been a tinge of jealously- and possessiveness. Strange for someone she thought hated her and didn't really want her. She'd been wrong, and that was amazing to her. Her old professor, who'd spent so many years tormenting her, wanted her. And she wanted him back. He'd been upset at her for almost killing herself, even cleansed her of the poison in her soul that had led to the decision, and then he'd ravaged her. And it had driven him crazy to think she was romantically entangled with Harry, had chosen him as a mate. What did that mean? He cared for her? What next?

He saved her life three times just in the last few months. Did she owe him a chance? Delivering her signature spin kick and taking off another dummy's head, she saw the table with the food appear. Lunchtime. Steak, how perfect. Too bad the Room of Requirement couldn't conjure up a solution to her problem for her too. "Not very nice to take off on me before I get to talk to you Miss Granger," an all too familiar sardonic voice drawled as footsteps padded towards her on the wood floor. Hermione jumped up in her seat, wide-eyed, and knocked over the table in her haste. "What-you can't-I locked the door!" she gasped out, ending in a very undignified squeak. _This_ was her solution? Suddenly her eyes narrowed as the phantom reached her. It was a phony, it had to be.

Grumbling while struggling to resist the dark charms, she closed her eyes, gulping and wishing him gone. Panic set in when she felt those hands stroking over her. But then as quickly as he'd arrived, Severus Snape was gone. Or at least the phony version was. "Some idea of stress relief- it had quite the opposite effect," she complained. As expected, she got no response. Just as she'd have it. Maybe she should just live in here. She could definitely get used to having her every whim carried out. Though it might start to get incredibly weird waking up every morning to a Snape doppelganger arousing her to unimaginable heights, or professing his love…

The reverie she'd slipped into broke off. Wait… Yea, that'd be awkward. And uncomfortable. And totally unwanted. Hermione nodded her head to punctuate the point. 'Not to mention it'd be completely, utterly bonkers. Snape would never do anything close to professing such nonsense- especially to the likes of her. Just because she wasn't much of a know-it-all these days and he had sex with her didn't mean she wasn't still insufferable to him. Hell, probably more so now because she made him lose control with her actions. Sighing, she flopped down on the bed with a full stomach and, exhausted after about eight hours of grueling exercise, she slept.

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She was floating in a sea of the tranquility, the beauty of it entrancing her. Then she felt something. Hands. Large, powerful hands. On her, gripping her, touching her. They encompassed her waist, slid like mercury to her breasts, cupped them, palms over her nipples, fingers then stroking downward over her abdomen, then lower still into the triangle of hair between her legs. To strong and bold to be any of her other lovers. But who else would've come to her like this? Suddenly his arms swept completely around her as he hauled her flush against his equally naked body, making her go still. His body was all but meshed with hers and she could feel the crispness of his chest hair against the softness of her breasts, touching her so tightly in the cloud-bed.

It was such an acute sensation she wanted to scream. And there was more to feel. More of him. Oh, it was all so much worse? She could feel the hardness and heat of his muscled form, feel his hips, his thighs…. Feel… Her cheeks burned. The very length of her body burned. Oh God. Before she even heard and felt the timbre of his voice at her ear, whispering of the things she did to him, she knew who it was. Severus. She had to get away. She couldn't take any more of this. Feeling him. The heat, the fire, the sheer strength of his hold. How could he do this to her? She wanted to lash out so badly, the sea turning into solid ground.

She suddenly felt so absurdly on display, feeling the breeze so keenly now about her naked flesh, trying not to move or tremble, to waylay the heat that burned so fiercely in her. She would not feel intimidated, yet she was shaking… Awaiting… His touch. She couldn't talk, couldn't move, and was both very afraid of what he intended, yet trembling with the fire and anticipation of it. She couldn't bear it. She'd just decided to run when he caught her arm, and she was spun around and swept cleanly from her feet. She landed flat upon her back on the ground, breathless, staring into his charcoal eyes. His thumb moved in a soft line across her cheek. "I won, you lost." "I refuse to be defeated. The fight is not done, sir. When you fight for your integrity and honor, you do so until the last."

"Well think of it this way: Those taken in battle must accept the victor's conditions." She started to argue further, but no words escaped her lips, for his mouth formed over hers with a stark demand that both angered and aroused. The pressure of his body bore her down; she was keenly aware of the rough wool of his pants against her flesh and the soft sweet musky scent of the waters embankment beneath her. More than anything, she felt the hot fire of his mouth, the savage demand of his tongue, invading and caressing, brutal, sensual, violating, coaxing, stroking again… Her fingers stroked his hair; her lips met and melded with his in a fiery explosion in which she gave the entire tempest she received.

Then his hand curved around her breast, thumb against her nipple until she would've screamed with the sensation had she been able... She writhed with the encroaching whiplash of fire that seemed to dart through her, burning from those points where he touched her. His mouth flooded her body with warmth; his touch upon her naked breast seared through her center and spiraled somewhere deep within. She gasped for breath, digging her fingers into his hair as his mouth left hers to suckle her nipple where his thumb had teased.

He turned her within the embrace of his arms, drawing her palms and fingers down the length of his chest, bringing her fingers in a curl around the throbbing length of his erection. She gasped and her gold eyes met his briefly, incredibly wide, then she buried her head against his shoulder, trembling as her body pressed to his and she… experimented. Her hand rubbed over the length of his in an instinctive stroke. Her fingers feathered his flesh and he groaned deeply, gutturally, as she reached lower, cupping and caressing his testicles, delicately hesitant, more and more surely…

She wanted to make him as crazy as he made her, if not more. She'd show him who the one in control was. But his mouth found hers again, the kiss turned violent as his touch plundering the dips and curves of her body, savoring the heat of her flesh beneath the chill the air caused. Then he began to caress… kissing the droplets of water from her breasts, the hollows at her hips, her thighs, between them… She tried to form words to protest, but her mind failed to oblige her- she continued to do nothing more than gasp and twist and writhe, tearing at his thick black hair, dismayed to realize even that touch seemed oddly sensual to her fingertips. His hand slid slowly along her side, curving around a hip.

Slid between the two of them, and then between her legs. The pressure of his thumb slid intimately down through the triangle of golden brown hair, parting her, stroking the most sensitive and intimate of female places. She tensed like a jackknife, a scream forming in her throat but only coming out as a whisper. Yet her harsh intake of her breath brought him over her again. Her golden eyes met his, dazed and somehow still challenging. His mouth covered hers again with a frightening ardor and passion.

She realized she'd not begun to estimate his strength until that moment when she lay pinned beneath him, realized his every movement was not guided by passion alone. She pressed her palms against the hardness of his chest, but the force of his weight was such he didn't begin to feel her protest. Nor could she cry out, for his kiss soon consumed her words. She twisted and writhed anew, on fire, seared by sensation, yet wild to escape the threatening pressure of his body. Her knees were thrust apart by a sudden supple movement of his body and the insistence of his weight.

His chest and legs remained clad in wool; his hips were naked. She felt his hand and sex and sex rubbing against her. A massive shudder swept through her. Then his pants were gone entirely and he burst into her with a single hard, smooth thrust that instantly broke all barriers. The falling light became a blood-red passion that burned into the landscape, and into their flesh. Beneath him, she met the storm of his rhythm, rode the lightning of his hunger. She never screamed, for she could not. Involuntary tears instantly pooled in her eyes and she clenched them tightly together, turning her head to her side as his lips broke from hers at last. She felt him looking down at her, just as she felt the fierce burning at the juncture of her legs.

She wished fervently she had the power to buck him off. She hadn't wanted to give in again, hadn't wanted to _feel_. But when it came to him, the choice was always taken away from her. And she knew it was useless to wait for an apology. He began to withdraw and she was counting herself lucky… only to have him plunge into her again. She bit fiercely into her lower lip… then felt his hands on her face, drawing it forward. She opened her eyes and met his. Even as she managed at long last to croak out "No!" she felt herself somehow stilled by the blazing fire in his eyes and rigid tension in his face. She tried to part his lips to speak again, but then his mouth fit over hers.

Still demanding. Coaxing. Bringing liquid warmth. Slowly, the warmth of his mouth seemed to ignite the burning between her legs once more. The heat was almost unbearable, and she found herself enfolded closer into his embrace, hands sliding down the length of her back, forming over her buttocks, drawing her more flush against the increasing furious pulse of his thrusts within her. Her fingers curled into his shoulder, nails digging. She'd prayed for it to end, but something else had begun to grow within her. A different kind of fire, a different kind of warmth and passion. _'Love?_ No. Unwilling and unwanted, whatever it was. She'd hated his touch for what it did to her, and yet…

She knew she couldn't live without it. She'd wanted to escape it, but now she twisted and arched to feel it, to feel the growing sweetness pervading her. '_Mate.' _A rigor seemed to seize him; then a violent thrust brought him so deeply within her that she shuddered with the force of it. Then once again… and the mercury of his climax filled her anew with a sense of liquid, burning fire. She was mere seconds behind, teeth clamping over his neck, drawing his saccharine blood inside her body and setting off the cataclysmic reaction. The beast inside her purred her satisfaction, glowing golden eyes seeming to peer out at her from behind the veil. _'Mine. Forever.'_

_

* * *

_

The night, in darkness, began to grow chill, and she wished for a moment she truly did have the warmth of his body… though she covered it with a wish for a fire before the Room could close him again. She still felt shaken from her dream, trembling. It was frightening to fell such violent, desperate sensation. She was amazed by the way he made her feel, the strength of the emotions awakened in her through this intimacy that still seemed so new and strange. When he had pressed her to the ground, she'd been willing to feel the heat of his desire forever. And she didn't like the way she felt buffeted along. She didn't want to want him; she certainly didn't want to _need_ him.

But her hunger put her beneath his power in a way, forced these feelings upon her. When they'd had sex, she thought at first he demanded what she didn't want to give, but she was wrong. Somewhere in the midst of this, things had changed. Now it seemed that the very sound of his voice could stir a warmth in her, the lightest brush of his fingers could ignite a burning. But what he hadn't given her was his regard. Affection of sorts. Love. Those she knew she would never get from him. Not that she wanted them. Not entirely. It was her creatures' wants that had shifted, demanded more. Not hers, really. So she had to stay far, far away from Severus Snape.

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Next Chapter:

'I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!' Roiled furiously in her mind as she stomped down the corridors to his office. 'If I were to splay you out on my desk and thrust my fingers into you right now, I think I'd find different,' echoed back, shocking her so much she froze outside his door. Especially as it was said with *his* low, sardonic tones with a strong hint of sensuality.


	17. Chapter 17

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

* * *

**Chapter 17**

After one week she was still shocked that she felt so vibrant and satisfied without feeding off another's' blood or energy. And she'd been spending a lot of her days hunting Death Eaters or training in her private quarters [she had to share the Room of Requirement with Harry]. It was almost odd now not to have that hollow ache in her gut, though in retrospect she realized it had just shifted to her heart. Though that was an easier ache to forget for her, like the restlessness. She was used to that inner conflict by now, half of her wanting one thing but the other half disgusted by it. It was the other ache that had almost led her to kill someone… twice.

'You could always feel as good as you feel now,' a voice in her head would whisper insidiously through the week, promising she'd never again feel that other, stabbing ache, never worry about losing control again. She fought it back time and time again, telling it that if _he_ was the price, she wasn't willing to pay it. Her life would be in shambles if she did. He didn't want her, just perhaps desired her. He'd laugh in her face if she tried for more. It growled fiercely back at her. 'And it wasn't ruined before this, feeding off your friends in fear, scrambling desperately to feed it and praying it would be enough? Fine, I'll have no problem with a blood bath after continued denial of what should rightfully be mine. Maybe it would be good for us.' The last was a combination of sulkiness and threats. The underlying insanity chilled her.

"I'd rather feed off a dozen random souls a night than crawl to him," she gritted from behind clenched teeth. 'He didn't make you crawl last time, you did that one your own and loved it.' She knew _it_ took pleasure from her disgust and shame. 'And you'd really rather prowl through town or attack your friends again? You know Ron's not strong enough, and Harry's not satisfying your needs as well anymore. Not to mention the fact that your mental grip on him is slipping. He'll find out you be-spelled him all those times eventually- then what would he say?' Hermione scowled.

"I don't need a lecture from a beast. And anything's better than Snape. He's a Death Eater. And he hates me. He'll destroy me!" She just got a hiss in return. '_We_ are one. _We_ are a hybrid of great power, not a beast. And though our mate is strong, he is not a danger to us. If he truly hated, he would not have bent to our charms.' "Don't call him that!" She snapped, growing uncomfortable with the turn in conversation... and with talking to herself… it… whatever, in general. She could almost sense a smug grin, as if it knew it was getting to her. "I am strong too, I can resist the pull." 'But he makes us stronger, more ourselves. Do you not feel more centered around him?' "Quite the opposite," the witch denied stubbornly. _It_ sighed, the spoke no more.

A little bit lost, Hermione sat on the edge of her bed. She _did_ have to admit his presence was somewhat soothing deep inside, that he may make her lose her mind, but he gave it back to her in spades too. Admitting it just felt like giving in, giving up, being weak. She shouldn't need him to remain sane. There had to be more than that one wizard whose magic aligned with hers just as well, who could sustain her and fulfill her desires. She kicked the wall out of helplessness, knowing it was a very small chance. Could even that dozen she'd brought up before be enough after this? Probably not. "Damn it." How could she hold up to his advances now? He'd been trying all week to get to her and she'd had to use her special abilities to avoid him, but she had a feeling she wouldn't be able to for much longer. So what happened now?

The dreams were only getting worse too. More extensive, more graphic, more passionate… more everything. She shivered. She didn't know how much more she could take. Spinning around and around in her own mind, she didn't feel it at first, but the probe expanded and her eyes widened as other things started resurfacing. And the familiarity of that probe stunned her. Someone was trying to read her mind. Hermione's brow furrowed and she hurriedly closed her mind with all her strength while she simultaneously traced the magical signature. Snape. "That snake!" Angrily she leapt up. He'd probably been at it all along, digging in her skull. Fine, he wanted an audience, he'd get one. 'To the dungeons.'

* * *

'I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!' Roiled furiously in her mind as she stomped down the corridors to his office. 'If I were to splay you out on my desk and thrust my fingers into you right now, I think I'd find different,' echoed back, shocking her so much she froze outside his door. Especially as it was said with *his* low, sardonic tones with a strong hint of sensuality. Looking through the panes of glass, she saw him look up to meet her gaze with a slow, seductive, smile. His eyes smoldered with an unequivocally sexual heat that said he knew exactly what was running through her mind at that moment.

Holding that gaze, she walked through the door and closed it behind her, walking up to him in long, steady steps. "You were in my head today. I want to know why." The ex-spy pulled her onto his desk, causing the papers to be shuffled aside. Squeaking, not liking the vulnerable position she was put into, she shifted her legs so she was evenly seated. "Don't you know?" he squeezed her thighs, pulling her closer with an effortless strength that made her heart race. Now he lay between her legs, sliding his hands over her. The Potions' Master was in a dangerous mood today. Why did she allow this? Oh yea, it was inexplicably arousing and it froze her in place.

Subconsciously licking her lips, she watched his eyes darken before he raised his head to fiercely claim a kiss. Her dominant position lasted a bare second. A subtle shift in his hold and he had her in his lap, her legs on either side of him, the damp heat between her thighs pressed to the rigid line of his cock. Gasping at the sudden electric contact, it took her a second to realize the way she was splayed out with her arms and such, his desk looking pretty haphazard. "I'm messing up your papers," she murmured stupidly against lips that had haunted her days and tempted her to the sweetest sins in her dreams.

He moved up his hand to close over her breast. A shock of sensation. Her spine arched. "I'll take recompense for your misdemeanor in flesh. Are you ready to pay?" A question full of erotic cruelty that made her survival instincts ripple in fear. When his teeth closed over the pulse in her neck and his hands ripped away her top to leave her upper body bare, she gripped his shoulders and hung on. Then those strong white teeth moved lower. Her stomach swirled with an addictive mix of fear and desire. "Severus." He flicked out his tongue, one hand on her back, the other plumping up her breast so he could lave the nipple with a slow focus that had her entire body going taut in expectation.

She could feel him in her mind, slipping in as desire short-circuited her defenses. She nipped his lip, frustrated enough to act on instinct. His eyes turned to midnight as he lifted his head, his thumb brushing over the peak he'd aroused to throbbing readiness. "No," she whispered. "No. This is not why I came." She pushed away. "But you will _come_," he whispered seductively, grabbing for her again. He silenced her protests with a kiss, mouth consuming hers, tongue tasting, plundering, and savage with his desire. He was like a tempest, a sudden firestorm out of the night, his fever so electric it charged throughout her instantly.

She wanted to protest his violence but in the end she could only match it. His subtle, masculine scent seemed to overwhelm her sense with temptation. . Then her arms curled around him, fingers teasing through the hair at his nape and working into his shoulders as she subconsciously drew him closer. Her mouth parted sweetly, accepting then meeting the fevered urgency of his hunger. He broke from her lips at last to look down at her. Her eyes were heavy-lidded from passion, lashes dancing like prisms against her cheeks. Her mouth was slightly parted, lips damp, sensually swollen. At her throat, her pulse leaped and raced…

She had dreamed of him so many times; she breathed him in now. Felt him. His hands on her face, his mouth liquid fire. And it was good. Engulfing, overwhelming, sensation so sweet she couldn't think to protest. An alarm within her warned her that she should be asking questions, protesting, _talking _first, but… It had been one thing not to know love. But now she had known him, lived with him, ached for him, _loved _him, and he was here… that was all that mattered. The feel of his lips, even angry, hungry; the touch of his hands, even rough with the same desire… his hands moved and buttons seemed to melt away. Clothing fell, his lips barely breaking from hers. She was more awkward, her hands tugging at the wool. He was definitely better off naked.

Yet it was she who stood naked first, and finally his lips left her, trailing along her throat. He lowered his head with a hoarse and desperate groan, pressing his lips against the fragile blue vein. His hand lay upon her bodice, rounding the fullness of her breast beneath. He thumbed her nipple through the fabric, closed his mouth upon it. Her fingers knotted in his hair as teased her nipple to a hardened tip, then licked, sucked and bathed that tip until it seemed that the sensation streaked right through her body, bringing a red-hot hunger. Her thighs parted under the gentle pressure of his weight, and his fingers stroking between them. A soft moan escaped her, creating a soft whisper at his ear; she was supple and pliant to his will, with a sinuous undulation beginning to stir within her at his touch.

She was warm, wet. She whispered his name, tugged at his hair, but he ignored her as he kissed her belly, dropping to his knees. He drew her abdomen flush to his face and planted tiny kisses lower and lower. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her knees buckled. She came down before him, shaking, seeking his lips and shoulders with her kiss, eager to touch and taste him everywhere, lay her face against his chest and feel the smoothness and fire of his flesh. Arouse him, excite him, torment him and he tormented her. Her fingers closed fully around his sex, stroked… His mouth crushed hers, and she was suddenly off her feet, flat on the bed, and she felt the half-discarded wool of his pants scratch her thighs but it didn't matter; at that point every touch seemed like just another tongue of fire.

She met his eyes as he sank into her, very slowly at first, watching her all the while. She couldn't close her eyes, couldn't look away. She gasped slightly as she shuddered with a sudden convulsion. With a swift thrust he went deeper still, and she came alive, writhing to the thunderous rhythm that gripped him and swept them up together. She moved with a wickedly graceful rhythm that sheathed and aroused him again and again, and he fell back upon her with greater ardor, rising to a precipice, falling back, only to immediately rise again. Reckless, wild, desperate, she clung to him, seeking and knowing what she sought, reaching and feeling the ecstasy take her at last, exploding into a climax that kept her trembling and convulsing with little aftershocks long after she felt the fierce constriction of his body shuddering throughout her own…

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Next chapter:

The few words he'd whispered resonated in the empty space as she shifted and twisted uncomfortably. The pajamas selected for the night were not comfy enough- yea, that was it. It wasn't her guilty conscious. So she twisted out of the pajamas. And there she lay naked. The cool covers kept her feeing safe amid the houseful of strangers outside her walls.


	18. Chapter 18

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

* * *

**Chapter 18**

Hermione lay in her bed, wracked with shudders. She'd given in. again. How had he so easily blown apart her shields and gotten under her skin? How could he make her crave so desperately? The ceiling she'd been staring at for the last four hours offered no answers. And the worst part was, she still wanted him. Her skin burned, even hotter than her average one hundred-plus- degrees. Her skin still glowed with perspiration, heart still raced, breath still came in quick pants. It was torture, but it was sweet too. Because it made her feel more alive. She'd never felt so alive as she felt after she'd been with him, or even around him. It was both fortunate and unfortunate right then, when she was torn by pride and regret for what she'd said. Now she couldn't sleep.

"I hate you." Those last words were spoken, a reflection of the ones she'd uttered so recently. He'd sent her beyond the point where her crazy imagination would normally go. She'd willfully told him what she'd thought of him tonight. Slipping as usual between those cool borrowed sheets, a restful breath helped to settle her heavy head into the pillow. "Hermione, please…" The few words he'd whispered resonated in the empty space as she shifted and twisted uncomfortably. The pajamas selected for the night were not comfy enough- yea, that was it. It wasn't her guilty conscious. So she twisted out of the pajamas. And there she lay naked. The cool covers kept her feeing safe amid the houseful of strangers outside her walls.

But his voice continued through her mind. Turning her head, hoping to drown it out, her hands brushed over her bare breasts. Instantly hardened nipples poked through the spaces between her fingers. Licking her lips, she thought of relief from the stress and frustration. Closing the gaps between her fingers and cupping her breasts brought on the inference of his hands squeezing her tender nipples, but it was just what she needed. Oddly, his imagined voice commanded her through her next motions. But this she didn't mind. Suddenly the memory of his voice asking what she had on was just enough to get her started. And the guilt faded under the flow of desire.

Hands in a comfortable place kept the following massage active in such a way that she forgot they were not his hands. Through the night hours, thoughts of him kept her company. And maddened her at the same time, still hating that he made her feel but unable to stop the passion his memory evoked. Peaceful breezes pushed through the cracked window and teased her bare skin as it poked out from under the blankets. Her leg wrapped out from under the sheets and allowed the air to find a path up to her slightly moistened pussy. A different kind of stimulating sensation kept her aware of all her feelings. She wanted him there beside her, stroking her hair, pulling her hair and keeping her excited.

One hand slowly traced the curves of her body until it reached her inner thigh. A slow approach to touching herself made her fingertips withdraw as soon as she felt her silken tuft. Attention to her pulsating breasts waned as she glided her second hand lower along her smooth curvy body. Parting her lips and lifting her knee landed the breeze right where she wanted it. His breath, she whispered as she moaned through a closed mouth. The vibrations on the inside of her closed mouth brought on a fantasy of his presence between these same cool sheets. Her fingertips secured a spot between her legs.

One hand parted the garnet lips and the other made way to the sweet wetness. Gentle methodical stroking and petting matched the pressure she put at the base of her clit. She treated it with a similar approach as to a cock and wondered if he'd experience the same feeling. Again, his voice passed into her fantasy telling her how he'd lick her and pleasure her with his knowing tongue. The taste of her was described in such a delectable way. With the lips of her mouth pressed together, she felt her tongue flicking at the inside of her mouth. Wondering if this would be what she'd feel if it were his on her lower lips... His mouth had always fascinated her. She envisioned it now in her fantasy, sensual lips pursed together, ready brush over her skin or her hot, waiting lips.

With that thought, she glided her hand further until she could feel the new wetness that begged for more attention. The rubbing and stroking mimicked the motions she'd have been applying to him. Everything she imagined he'd enjoy was equally enjoyable to her and she continued. Moaning of his name out loud was enhancing her thrill. While one hand remained on her clit, the other shifted along her belly up to her breasts, pinched and tweaked her perky nipples. They were stiff enough that she could feel them through the crisp white cool sheet that was soon to cover her. When those nipples had enough stimulating, she slid her hand stealthily down to her pussy again, stroking and petting and caressed her belly back to her breasts.

All the time, her other hand maintained momentum in her slit, pressing and dipping and stroking and dipping and pressing and rubbing in various intensities and varied sequence. Those resounding visions of him kept her fantasy alive. The words commanding him how to touch her were followed through by her own touches. She moaned his name and called to him ecstatically as her hands followed through with her requests of him. Forgetting she was actually in bed alone, she reached her arm to the side beneath the covers and felt around for him. All she felt was a hard piece of something. Her eyes opened wide, forgetting that was there.

Once her hand wrapped around it securely, her eyes closed gently and she brought it closer to her chest. It lay between her breasts as she decided whether to turn it on. The feel was close to a cock lying there. One switch to test the power brought the visual back. Her hands shifted again to the south. This time, her toy accompanied the motion. She remembered some vague coaching and tried it out to get started. Everything he said to do was working. It brought the memory of his scent back to her. It brought the vision of those lips back to her. It brought his voice, his body, his everything back to her and after several slow strokes against her entire sex with the entire length, she pressed that small button and the vibrations rang clear along her slit.

She "heard" him say dip now and then. As the toy shimmied along and pulsated on command, she listened to him and dipped. The first dip got a gasp and a yelp of pleasure from her. In seconds, she had to switch it off to regain composure and settle the feelings. It all worked too well and she wanted it to linger. The sounds were muffled beneath the heavy comforter and the visions were heightened by her full memory of him. At this point in time though, she was able to handle it all alone. The feel of each shift in intensity of her toy was keeping her overly excited. The memorable sound of him coaching her through the steps in a previous encounter kept her going with what the steps should be now.

In and out slowly, pressure and dipping and the wetness that helped to glide it where it needed to go brought her closer and closer. He had a different experience of sensations and thought she should just press on, and glide on, and rub on through a magnificent orgasm and into the next and the next. Tonight, she tried it. And from someplace deep within her, a voice let out a scream of a moan that somehow had underlying tones carrying his name and a word… _'Love.' _And she had no more issue with sleep that night.

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Next Chapter:

"A test?" She all but squeaked, hitting a wall and realizing she had nowhere else to go. "Yes," he murmured, dangerously nearer, fingers capturing one soft curl and releasing it to spring around her face. "To see if you truly are done with me." His lips were just a hairsbreadth from hers and her heart stopped, feeling every puff of breath.


	19. Chapter 19

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

* * *

**Chapter 19**

Hermione woke up the next morning in a bad mood that lasted throughout that day and the following. Her body had betrayed her all along, desiring what she should not desire; then her mind betrayed her in the same way, thinking of him constantly and deluding itself with the possibility of more. Now there was her failure to find and kill Lucius Malfoy. She'd killed off many of his circle, but this one eluded her and it frustrated her to no end- especially since he was the one behind most of the attacks, and the one who'd tortured Ron. She'd badly wounded him before though, and maybe that's why he was being so damn careful about where he showed his face now. It did not bode well for her temper. Their strategies were getting too good, and even with Harry with her it was almost too much.

She sighed and then kicked the library's bookshelf… then for good measure kicked it a second time. Her life, even before the Lake incident, had never exactly been a fairytale- but it had at least made some sense. It had never been more than she could handle, as tough as the loss of her family had been. So why was she struggling so mightily now? The largest part of her pouted childishly, 'Because this is harder. It's practically the end of the world. How am I going to survive this?' And while she technically should've known better, the witch wanted too badly to scream and throw a tantrum- so she did. What else was a girl to do when their favorite hobby was all but taken away and they were going through massive hormonal changes [especially when a guy was involved]?

Shoving all the books on the desk to the floor, she found it felt rather good, and pushed the chair over too. It was all _his _fault anyway, she decided. He was supposed to be the coolly detached one- stoic, unreachable and untouchable. The voice of reason when even logical, cautious-minded bookworms [like she used to be] lost control. He was supposed to hate her enough to keep his distance despite the mistakes they made, not seek her out for more. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment like her, but that was no excuse. She folded her arms. Self-destructive tendencies, that had to be it. So surely she could find a more suitable mate now, who didn't have such a glaring flaw. 'You're not going to find one,' the creature laughed, as if amused and amazed at her foolishness at the same time, 'That's why he's ours.'

"A snarky, evil old git?" she snapped, cranky. 'He's loyal and strong- Harry showed you the memories he'd unwittingly seen of Snape's torture sessions and all the spying for Dumbledore. So he's hardly what you accuse him of being.' "He's barely even human!" Hermione argued back at the voice, not caring if she seemed crazy anymore. 'He loved once, a smart Muggleborn girl like yourself, and that transformed him more than the decades under Voldemort. And don't forget how many times he's saved three pesky brats who were determined to ruin him- even from a werewolf he feared. Does that not make him more a hero? The faults are what make him human, and you eschew those.' She scowled. "Crazy logic. I was forced to put up with you in my head after I was attacked, I won't have him forced on me too."

'We are two sides of one coin. I exist as I am only because you fight me. Just as your malevolent image of him persists only because you embrace it.' She fought the urge to stick her tongue out at the invisible fiend. Everyone would think her even more insane if she admitted to conversing with it. It was just easier [and seemingly more reasonable] to blame the virus-like organism that restructured her genetic codes. If she ever found what had infected her though, she'd have a lot of talking to do. Were there more dangerous complications than voices? Would she start sprouting horns and a tail?

Malfoy had been convinced there'd been demon blood in with the vampire she wouldn't be surprised if there was. With blood-transfusion potions, cleansing spells and other such venues were out, it seemed as impossible a task to change that as it was to make her desire for Snape go away. Heat suffused her body at the thought of him. And she was so preoccupied on her way back to her room that she forgot to keep an eye out for the one who thus plagues her. So she bumped right into him. Damn distracting thoughts! His hands touched her shoulders as if to steady her. 'Oh God,'she thought desperately. 'Perfect timing.'

Eyes darting away from his almost fearfully, body tensed, she moved to push passed him. "I can't deal with this right now," she mumbled, unwittingly speaking aloud. "Hermione…" His smooth, deep voice rolled over her name like a caress, which shook her. "Don't call me that," she ordered softly [pleaded?], hating the way her voice broke. "Don't use my name that way." "I won't let you avoid me, _Hermione._ I know you want me, I could feel it. That night in the tower. In my office. Here." She tried to ignore the way his commanding tone made her feel. "Did I have much of a choice? You were rather… aggressive." A weak attempt to deflect from her feelings, and strip that night of meaning.

His knowing look told her just how weak an attempt it was, that he knew better. "And your kiss in the dungeons halls? The alley behind the bar? You wanted it then too. I was quite smashed, yes, but not enough to forget. Never enough. Willing or not, you seemed to enjoy each instance rather thoroughly. Do you deny it?" "You are out of my system now. I no longer desire you," she whispered harshly instead, not trying to refute his last claim. He'd been there to witness her pleasure, there was no use. But this she wanted desperately to be true. "I don't believe you." His dark, burning eyes flashed as he stalked closer. She nervously moved back, barely catching herself from stumbling.

Where was the Snape who hated the students, especially her? Where was the one who scowled and hid away in the dungeons? She suddenly, greatly, missed him. "I don't!" Her traitorous voice wavered this time. His slow smile was piercing, something primal in his gaze. "Then I purpose a test." "A test?" She all but squeaked, hitting a wall and realizing she had nowhere else to go. "Yes," he murmured, dangerously nearer, fingers capturing one soft curl and releasing it to spring around her face. "To see if you truly are done with me." His lips were just a hairsbreadth from hers and her heart stopped, feeling every puff of breath. "And if I win?"

"Then you have your peace, your distance. But if I win, than nothing on earth is going to stop me from having you again." The words zinged through her on thick electric currents and caused her to grow wet with wanting. Damn him. It was her last thought before he claimed her mouth in a kiss. She felt as if her heart were pounding a staccato beat that she feared he might hear. Her flesh felt as if it were on fire. His lips grinding down on her with a fever and passion that inflamed her senses, set fire to a longing that had before just been imagined, she thought it'd be so easy to give in. But her stubborn pride was stronger. For now. He touched her and only the pain of her own nails biting into her palm kept her from whimpering. He unbuttoned her blouse. She wouldn't react. She refused to react. It became her mantra.

He lowered his head and brushed the valley between her breasts with his lips first, then the tip of his tongue, drawing a hot, liquid line between them. His mouth traveled to cover a dusky rose nipple, tongue sweeping around it, flicking the peak. His head against her chest, he had to have felt the thunder of her heart. But that couldn't have given her away, could it? She lay so perfectly still, not protesting, not moving. He rose slightly above her. Her eyes were squeezed shut; her face was pale, her lips just slightly parted, breath sweeping quickly in and out. Also fear and nervous reactions, she told herself. But she felt his smile when he pressed his lips to her throat, cupped her breast into his palm and caressed it again with his tongue and the edge of his teeth.

He drew his hand down the length of her, seeming to savor the slim and beautifully curved form she wore, stroking and touching, moving against her. Her flesh burned as soft as silk against his hard length; she could feel his fullness vibrantly. He rose above her again, taking her lips. Her eyes stayed clenched, but she couldn't help her mouth parting to his coaxing, and she felt him hesitate as if humor tempered the fever. She tried to pull back, eyes snapping open, cursing herself and him for the knowing, mocking thoughts she imagined lying behind that smile. "See, nothing," she gasped out. But he wouldn't let her escape, hands tightening over her, pressing her further into that wall. He chuckled, "Oh, but the test isn't over yet, my dear. You _will _respond to me."

Mouth seductively sliding over hers again, he eased his weight to her side to allow him to keep his hold yet have freedom to know her. And he kissed her all the while with a deceptively soft, slow, tender thoroughness while the questing touch of his fingers roamed over her body. His mouth grew bolder, tongue delving, raking, plundering, drawing a little whimper from her throat. His touch became far more invasive as well, her clothes seeming to disappear piece by piece, his palm rotating over the soft honeyed triangle between her thighs. A needful throbbing began to override her anger though she clung to it.

He slipped his hand between her thighs; she started to clench them together, breaking the kiss to turn her face to the side, gritting her teeth. He shifted his weight again, forcing her limbs apart with the strength of his own body. His sex, fully erect, teased the tender flesh of her femininity and she couldn't conceal her sudden, wild intake of breath. She trembled fiercely, looking back at him with awareness and defiance, before she closed her eyes again, going rigid. The dutiful one- not fighting, enduring. One voice in the back of her head told her to end the experiment now before it went any further, but she didn't know if she currently had the power to. And he certainly wouldn't let her.

Her breathing was shallow but she once more lay perfectly still. He inched lower, re-creating liquid trails of kisses over her throat and breasts. Fondling her flesh, suckling it. Inching lower still, cradling her breasts while drawing his mouth against her ribs, waist, and navel. Inching still. Lying directly between her thighs. A long moment seemed to go by before he parted her with his fingers and plunged into the most intimate kiss with the seductive caress of his mouth and the searing implement of his tongue. Her eyes flew open for the third time; a desperate, stunned gasp escaped her. She wriggled to free herself, and did nothing but bring herself more tightly against him.

He caught her hands, his fingers curling against them as he continued to caress and seduce, feeling the wild trembling and surge within her that appeared to create an explosive fire in him. Her every twist and buck further inflamed him and he persisted, drawing her daringly higher. But he rose over her again at last, thrusting into her with fevered desire. He ravaged her mouth with a fierce hunger- as if imprinting himself upon her, as if taking her taste and feel and scent into him to have for now, forever. She clung to him and kissed him in return, knowing this couldn't last. A choked sobbing sound escaped her; her eyes wide as saucers, dazed and unfocused upon his.

She wondered how it was possible to feel such heartache even as she felt such pleasure and sweet, aching, spiraling happiness. She wanted to memorize him so badly. The breadth of his shoulders, the texture of his skin, the supple length of his back. The taste of his lips, the fire in his eyes, the feel of him… inside her, part of her. Her palms fell against his chest, fingers curling into his shoulders. She lay shaking, then clinging to him as he wrapped her tightly against him, pressing ever more deeply into her. The sight, the feel, the scent of him was intoxicating, scarcely bearable. His pace and actions seemed as controlled as hers had moments ago until her body tightened, constricted.

Desperately, she licked his neck, needing the taste of him, needing… _more_. Face pressed to his shoulder, she bit him again as she cried out in the throes of an orgasm and her limbs went limp. His potent blood flowed into her and searing, liquid warmth gloved his sex as he moved deeply within her. He thrust and shuddered violently as well, his face looking as if amazed at the explosive force her climax had drawn from him in turn. Wickedly delicious heat sizzled through them both as he finished, moving again and again, more gently within her until she too was filled with the mercury of their lovemaking. Then he drew her closer, despite her stiffening, to roll them over so it was his back against the wall as they slid to the floor together. "Hermione," he breathed, face nuzzling in her hair.

Severely weakened from the force of their passion, she just looked up at him- anger at being manipulated [seduced] warring with the softness in her eyes. Tentative affection? But she didn't want to be soft with him, no matter what they had done… multiple times. Nothing had change. Much. She pulled back, fuming as she grabbed her blouse and jeans. "This proves nothing. I am _not_ yours." He grabbed her wrist before she could fasten them, pants hanging open and shirt only half-buttoned [Merlin only knew where her undergarments were]. "Then I am yours," he returned softly. She swallowed. "You don't mean that. You don't want to be mine. I am an animal. You have no idea what goes on in my head. I have no use for emotion; I can barely control my actions."

"You think I am any more experienced than you with such things? Even Dumbledore and Minerva, my only confidants, have their doubts about me- and I am far too used to atrocities you couldn't imagine in your worst nightmares. Yet I am here." He pulled himself to standing as she had, tucked back into his pants but not bothering with a shirt. "Your ferocity doesn't frighten me. Neither do your teeth. Little does, in fact, after the last twenty years. I know what you are, and what you need. I know what I could be for you."

She blushed, remembering how she'd taken pleasure from sampling his blood and energy, getting high on it, thriving. Remembering the word she whispered in the dark where nobody else could hear. _'Mate.' _The word echoed in her head and she had a weird feeling it did in his too. Fear permeated her mind and, gulping, she backed up. She wasn't ready for this, she couldn't- _'Fool,'_ her creature hissed, _'He's yours, take him!' _She put a clamp on it. "I can't- I won't- I have to go. Goodbye Severus." Clutching her shirt closed, she turned and ran.

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Next Chapter:

'Beg for me Hermione. Let me hear how much you want it.' Her thighs clenched tighter together at the sudden dampness there, and the sigh turned into a whimper. She needed to cool down. Fast.


	20. Chapter 20

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

* * *

**Chapter 20**

Several days later Hermione was beginning to feel trapped. Every time she left her room, _when _she left her room, she had to use an invisibility spell for fear of encountering him again- _and _avoid all major areas of the castle. Paranoia ruled her. Memory too. No matter where she went it was haunted by recollections of him and their passion. So she stopped going out. And her creature hated her for it, trying to claw for control again; scratching at the corners of her mind, banging against its cage. It didn't understand security measures.

But it _did _understand violence- which was why she locked herself in the Room of Requirement for most of each day. As long as she kept her mind off Snape… Severus. Her cursed blood fired up even just _thinking_ his name, heart picking up speed and body flushing with arousal. Too late. She could almost picture his sardonic smirk and mocking gaze as she crawled back to him, practically begging him to take her again and ease the pain. 'Unable to resist my charms after all, little lioness? Well, you're going to have to do better than that after your speech the other night.' Her second, final [?] rejection. Insert some random, quite embarrassing act that she'd probably do all too willingly. Hermione winced.

She'd die before she let that happen. No matter how he looked with that lean, muscled form leaning casually against the wall. No matter those oh-so-capable long fingered hands tapping a rhythm on the stone and making her think dirty things. No matter how tempting those dark, silky locks that fell to shade his pale, patrician features and sensually curved lips that pronounced her fate. She groaned, just imagining what those lips and hands could do. If she begged nicely… "Stop!" She ordered herself. But it came out sounding breathy. A tremulous cry for mercy.

And only reminded her more of him fucking her, pulling out just enough to tease her, holding back her release as his mouth brushed her ear. 'Beg for me Hermione. Let me hear how much you want it." Her thighs clenched tighter together at the sudden dampness there, and the sigh turned into a whimper. She needed to cool down. Fast. Before she went running to him and pleading as she feared she would. Frustrated, she kicked off her shoes, then her pants. She needed a bath. Maybe that would ease some of the infuriating tension. But as she started to peel of her shirt, her hands ran over her breasts.

Licking her lips, she couldn't help but remember how good it had just felt when _he _had done that exact thing. And she grew wet again at the thought of his hands on her. Removing her undergarments just presented a more serious problem. Because she could easily imagine a lovers' tongue in place of her fingers. So her mind brought up the visualization- him, with his face buried against her stomach, licking and kissing and sliding lower. Then she imagined she felt him gently sucking on her clit… and as she touched herself there she thought of his tongue, his lips covering her. She thought of him pressing his tongue down hard onto her clit and recalled things he'd said to her, her excitement growing.

She heard herself speaking aloud, as if he were there to hear her. Her eyes closed tightly as she re-created this fantasy of him. Or rather, remembered a previous night with him. A kiss, a slight touch, had been all it took. She'd wanted him badly in that moment, and right then she could tell he wanted her too. His hands, both times, so knowledgeable as they maneuvered them over her body. Her body had been his for the taking and he knew it. Knew only he could ignite the kind of passion she'd long yearned for. His tongue, wet and warm, had caressed her thighs as she'd wrapped her legs loosely around his neck and rested them on his back, propped up against the wall.

His tongue had flicked over her clit as his finger traced the outer lines of her lips. Slowly, he'd slid one finger into her and she pushed down hard onto his tongue and his finger. Then he'd added another, and another, giving her the most wonderful sensations. But she'd needed more. Always more. Drawing his fingers away and stepping back, she'd licked her lips, _"I want your cock. Now."_ And that's all it took then too. They quickly shifted themselves and she took hold of his cock, guiding it into her wet, hot pussy. The rush she felt as he thrust his cock into her was incredible. It didn't matter how many times she'd felt his cock enter her then, or how many she'd felt ever, each time with him brought an indescribable rush. And her body, responding as it always did to him, arched up to meet him. Always him.

She'd placed her legs against his chest as he held her thighs, and she squeezed her inner muscles together, tightening her grip around him pleasurably. Looking up at him, she could see the joy expressed on his face, and she relived that look now. Hermione loved the way his cock felt inside of her, completely hard, full and thick as his balls slammed against her clit- Their bodies melded into one as the perfect rhythm was set. Over and over, he'd pushed deeply inside of her then pulled almost out before repeating. Each time with more force, each time causing her body to want more. She felt his hardness plunge one last time, and she sensed that an orgasm was near, so she bit her lips as if the momentary pain could hold it off. The picture of his eyes clenched shut, his head tilted back as he released into her, body shaking…

The feel of his hands digging into her thighs and holding her in place... A moan escaped her. Such thoughts were dangerous. Like how once his body had relaxed a little, he pulled his cock out and began to rub it against her. Her legs, still pressed onto his chest, had opened more for him. As he'd rubbed his cock up and down her slit, he began to stiffen again. He'd spread her open further with his cock and pressed it hard against her clit. He held his cock with one hand and slapped it gently against her clit, a little harder and faster each time, the wet slapping sounds strangely erotic. With each touch her clit had pulsed, swelling further with arousal, and she'd angled her hips, arching upwards as he rested on top of her and thrust back in. Oh how that had made her scream… She shivered.

Now she wanted to be fucked again. But she knew it wasn't possible, wasn't logical. So she decided that it was time to make her way to the bath room at last. A long, leisurely bath was to be her next indulgence. She sat on the edge of the tub, started the water and reached for one of her new favorite scents. The sandalwood. She added it to the bath water and took a moment just to enjoy the aroma, then lit several candles and turned off the lights. It was a relaxing touch. Hermione clipped her now waist length hair up and lowered herself into the silky, bubbling water. As her body sank into the almost too hot water, and her mind sank further into the deep black nothingness of relaxation, she found herself thinking about him again.

The way his voice sounds when he got excited, the catch of his breath when she did something that pleased him. Her whole body was soon flushed pink, both from the heat of the water and her desire, and steam rose in wisps around her. Her hair cascaded down her back in a soft, slippery honeyed waterfall, sticking to her shoulders and neck as she rested her head against the back wall. The warmth of the perfumed water felt wonderful against her skin as she stretched her legs out all the way, sliding under. And her legs parted subconsciously, enough to allow the water full access. The smoothness of the sudsy water was just what she needed.

Swallowing and almost unable to believe her actions, her fingers began to drift over her body, cupping and squeezing her breasts lightly before one parted her lower lips a bit, just barely touching her clit. She wanted the release too bad. And it responded immediately as it was exposed to the touch of the water, swollen and needing to be soothed. She slowly pulled one knee out of the water and rested it against the wall, loving the way her clit felt as she rolled her fingers over it. Her eyes closed while she increased the pressure and the speed, continuing to massage one breast. Then her fingers rapidly hit against her clit and she was completely lost in the moment as the quivers of orgasm starting to run through her.

Eyes still closed, she dragged a washcloth out from the corner rack and over her body, shivers running up and down her spine when the material grazed her sensitized nipples. Biting her lip, she rubbed her breasts harder with the cloth and a sharp pang of pleasure coursed through her, making her moan involuntarily and her legs spread more instinctively. She could even, almost, feel _his_ hands sliding up her stomach and over her breasts, catching the hardening nipples in the bends of his thumbs. He'd squeeze gently, teasingly, making her body shudder, and that made her whimper in reality. Opening her eyes to see nothing, she instead pictured eyes wild with desire looking into hers- the look that told her he was fighting the urge to just shove his cock into her as deep as he could.

By this time her hands found more places that needed touching, and her relaxed muscles were quickly turning back into tight, blazing hot nerve centers that made her want to all-out scream. Thoughts still concentrated on him, the phantom Severus was now in front of her as she sat on the edge of the tub, his hand wrapping around her ankle and pushing her foot up so that her heel was resting against the wall. She felt a wave of heat pass over her body at the mere thought of him looking at her pink, shaved mound as if studying her, and in turn felt herself drip in a different manner. This wasn't working. Toweling herself off quickly, she went to lay on her bed, spreading out.

Imagining one invisible finger touching her just at the opening of her core, she gasped sharply as it ran up her slippery smooth skin and just over her clit. And before she had time to react, she felt a whisper of breath on her a second before his invisible mouth covered her, devouring hungrily. Hermione's body jerked and a low, throaty moan escaped as she felt his tongue slip from her clit to the tight opening below. He pushed gently, and moved the tip of his tongue inside as his eyes met mine. And she knew at that moment that she was going to die a slow, wonderful death the way her body was burning from his mouth.

Then suddenly the sensation stopped, and her mouth was covered by his, causing her to his back- a deep, desperate response. Quickly he bucked his hips against her and just like that, his cock was buried to the hilt inside of her. Her fingers started to move faster and faster over her clit as she thought about him pushing inside her, pulling out and then pushing to get deeper. Strong hands seemed to grasp her hips and pull her closer, and she could almost hear the slapping sounds that their bodies made as her phantom started to ram into her hard. The gentleness and the tenderness with which he'd been touching her just minutes before was completely forgotten.

The mattress started to creak as she shifted restlessly, legs both kicking the covers off and drawing them closer, the light brushes against her tender skin reminding her of the way the brush of his body teased hers as he fucked her. Her pussy started to tighten around her fingers... his cock. She could imagine masculine groans, breathing shallow and almost labored, thrusts becoming rhythmic and frantic. The feel of a rock hard cock pounding into her, almost hurting her. And when she tensed with the beginnings of a climax, it felt like she was burning from the inside too. Her body began to contract and unwind rapidly, the walls of her tight channel squeezing her fingers hard...

And she cried out his name as her body exploded with wave after wave of orgasm, still feeling him inside her, still pumping in and out, still shooting every last drop of his release into her. Then slowly she dropped back onto the bed, clit still throbbing as she sank into the soft cotton sheets. Her eyes closing again, she let her hand fall away from my body, and the sudden coolness of the room enveloped as her consciousness floated back to her on a cloud. After a few minutes, her breathing regulated and her heart beating hard but slower, she opened her eyes and in the moment could almost see him laying there beside her with that slow, sexy grin. His voice echoed in the empty air and she shivered.

She really needed a shrink. One experienced with magical delusions. She stayed there for a while, almost drifting off to sleep until the sound of the heavy window slamming itself shut from the pressure of the air stirred her. So she sighed and rolled over, propping herself up on one elbow, and her mind began to entertain thoughts of what her next indulgence might same breath of relief was also a sigh of disappointment because she felt like she was betraying her long control over arousal. A lifetime, before the events of the last two months too place. The fact that it got this way almost every time she thought of him, that she couldn't moderate her reactions, both scared and disturbed her. Desire so strong it could cause her body to tremble, yet one that also exhausted all the rage and stress going on in her mind.

For a few hours at least. But now the cravings were starting to come back. Doing it herself just didn't work the same, obviously. The last day or so she got very aroused, very easily. It was like all the barriers suddenly opened up and all the cumulated stimulation she got over the course of that week [where she thought she had peace] suddenly hit her all at once. And it hadn't ended with the moment shared with Severus, or just now. So she used a dildo this time, slowly teasing herself by pushing it in and out. She squirmed and carefully tried to keep pace slow, even though it was completely the opposite of what her body wanted. Last bits of enjoyment for being in control of everything.

She breathed heavily while every muscle in her body seemed to tense in anticipation of every push. She wanted an extra hand to handle the vibrator and let her concentrate on only the feelings, but had to make due. Pushing vibrator all way in, she finally turned it on and left it there while she brought her right hand to her clitoris, slowly starting to massage there. Her hand was soon well lubricated from her own juices, and she straightened her legs, feeling her whole body tighten. Voiceless moans come out of her mouth. She was already close again but still wanted to build it up even more. So she stilled her hand and ran it through her hair, grasping and pulling until it hurt pleasurably, imaging someone else was doing it as they fucked her.

She slid her left hand down and rubbed vigorously, getting closer and closer to the powerful orgasm that she wanted, anticipating as if it could free her from this torturous state of wanting. Then she came, exploding. Violently. She threw herself backwards on the bed, eyes open but unseeing It wasn't only small and quick warmth or relief, but something that took my mind completely away from everything, and she was thankful. Laying with all her limbs stretched out, Hermione felt the orgasm pulsing and then slowly fading away, with her muscles relaxing completely. The air felt cool on her sweat covered skin and was a great relief.

A sigh escaped her at finally getting rid of all the tension that had built over the last day. A sigh of relief and a tiny bit of disappointment. Disappointment because the climax always went by too fast and never seemed to be enough. She closed her eyes again and enjoyed the afterglow anyway, still trembling with a slight ache of muscles, but quieting down more and more. It was worth the ache and tenderness of flesh that made even the touch of the blankets almost too much. She didn't even have the energy to curse the wet patch on the sheets under her, just moving to the side. Just being there, safe and comfortable in her room without the added stress people brought, was all she needed.

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Next Chapter:

She could almost imagine their life force flooding her mouth, rushing through her teeth and over her tongue, its warm nectar sliding down the back of her throat… Saliva pooled in her mouth. Hermione couldn't resist any longer. She took a step forward, kicking a third pack member out of the way to get to Harry.


	21. Chapter 21

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

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**Chapter 21**

She was in a cold, dark place, covered in blood from numerous cuts that weren't healing right. And the young woman with hair of red, gold and brown fought to control her breathing as the weakness attacked her. Her gaze darted around in a panic and found Harry, Severus and Ron. Her best friend was impaled on a support beam, trapped but still alive. Ron was on the floor, unconscious, and Severus was in The Dark Lord's hands, one step from being throttled. Apparently Voldemort had found out where his true loyalties lay. Fear and dread were in her eyes now as she lay hunkered down, clutching her chest and breathing abnormally. 'No. Not yet.' The strange thought echoed in her head.

"It's too late," their enemy hissed, an evil smile curving his lips. "It's already begun." Hermione straightened, trying to still the wild thumping of her heart with deep, calming breaths. "You're mine now. And your friends are as good as dead." The breaths did no good. Her heart felt ready to explode from her chest. "No!" she cried, trying to step forward, but blocked by a vaporous tunnel of blackness. Panic made her a wildcat, leaping and rolling to the side to push the devilish scion back and yank her friend free. She flung him with more force than intended, forgetting her strength in her haste to get Ron from under his foot. Ron hit the wall with a groan, his broken arm taking the brunt of the impact.

But at least his ribs hadn't been crushed by those iron boots. Still, Hermione cringed, watching as his unconscious form crumbled to the floor in a heap. She started towards him, Harry just beyond where she'd thrown him, when one of the lycans that had been in the background distracted her. Leaping, it sunk sharp, poisonous teeth into her pale, lean calf. Horrified, she felt the bite rip through muscle and sinew. Heard the crunch of bone. The hybrid screamed, surging forward with hands outstretched to twist his neck and free herself. Kicking free of the corpse, she dragged herself to where her wand had fallen, but it had disappeared in the fray so she settled for a wandless spell Severus taught her.

Closing her eyes in pain, she clutched her leg, frantically murmuring the healing spell between sobs and wondering why it was working so slowly. And Voldemort was advancing, striking her in the face as she struggled to stand, Severus's throat still crushed in his grip. She toppled back from the blow, cupping her cheek as Voldemort took her twice fallen wand, preventing her rebound attack. Even Severus moved to block the stinging hex aimed at her and his former master slammed him into a wall too, glass crashing around his head as he lifted the spy off the floor. "I'm not going to kill you right away. Killing is too good for you. Too easy. I'll keep you alive. Make you a slave to the pack, feed you the scraps."

The Dark Lord's voice sounded strange. Thick, almost strangled. A glance revealed why. He was beginning to shift, face altering, the bones elongating and stretching as his skin darkened to a deep grey. Fur sprouted over his leathery hide until his head sported a thick black mane. She suddenly raised a hand to her own face and felt the bones shift too. "Oh God," she whimpered, voice un-natural. "Help me." She was going to become like him, wasn't she? A gnawing hunger flared to life in the pit of her belly. Her heart still hammered at a frantic tempo, the air rushing out of her mouth in spurts. Dipping her head, she moaned low in her throat, a scratchy, tingling sensation overwhelming her.

Powerless to resist, she flung her head back, dropping to her knees, spine arched. Clutching her head, she felt like she was being stretched too, fangs popping in and growing extensively. Her hair tumbled over her body so her carefully cropped hair became like a shroud. Her cheekbones became sharp and angular, eyes re-shaping as a cats' must look, vision tinged red. She could even swear she grew those damn horns. And frame lengthened considerably, her hunger grew to monster proportions as well, eclipsing all else. 'It hurts,' she cried in her head. 'Why is this happening to me?' _'Trust me,'_ the creature whispered in return before she felt it fade out. No, not fade. _Merge._ Like it should've been.

But it didn't stop the change, just made it hurt less. Hermione stumbled to her feet, struggling to hold onto herself and to what she knew, but it became increasingly harder as her body twisted inside itself. Claws replaced her fingernails, thick and sharp. She heard her name called as if from a great distance and vaguely recognized Severus's raspy voice. "Fight the hunger Hermione! Get the wand!" he shouted. Confusion mixed with pain in her eyes. Hers had been stolen away. "Use mine!" He gasped roughly as Voldemorts' giant paw squeezed tighter. Meeting his gaze, she hesitated. One wizard couldn't use another's' wand- it was an extension of ones' self, an embodiment of their magic, a finely tuned instrument.

Yet she didn't have the strength, with so much blood loss, to just leap at his attacker and rip him to shreds as she wanted- especially when he was in that transformed state. "Trust me," the man wheezed, the sick gurgle at the end snapping her out of it. She _had _to trust him. And trust in herself, even when it seemed impossible. Feeling as if her feet had been encased in blocks of cement, it became harder and harder to function as her cuts continued to flow. Taunting, Voldemort kicked the wand out of reach again, but she lunged for it. Though doubled over soon after, clutching her belly at the sudden cramping. Hermione inched closer despite the blinding pain, willing herself to do as Severus had asked. But the hunger was staggering, washing over her in hot, undulating waves, getting worse by the second.

She wanted to roll on the floor, tear her skin off and… Suddenly she caught sight of Ron stirring into consciousness. Every one of her senses, painfully heightened, zeroed in and made her aware of every breath, each rapid heartbeat, the sweet blood rushing just beneath the surface of his warm skin… He looked so… tempting, smelled so good. Delicious. Snarling, she clawed at another lycan who got in her way, tearing ribbons into his flesh. And then there was Harry, with his sluggish heartbeat, the scent of his blood strong, the ruby red color against his honeyed skin a delight. She no longer saw them, she saw food.

She could almost imagine their life force flooding her mouth, rushing through her teeth and over her tongue, its warm nectar sliding down the back of her throat… Saliva pooled in her mouth Hermione couldn't resist any longer. She took a step forward, kicking a third pack member out of the way to get to Harry. "'Mione?'" he whispered weakly as one eye crack open, struggling to move. _'Friend.'_ She stopped; her eyes squeezed shut as she battled anew the urges that washed over her, threatening to swallow her whole. She was _so _hungry… She flexed her hands, startled to feel the dig of talons cutting into her palm. Right, she forgot. No matter. Soon she would feed and be strong again.

"Hermione! Don't!" Severus's voice reached out to her again from the fog, body shuddering from the Cruciatus curse that hit him as he fell. "Hermione, I love you! God, please don't!" Her vision cleared a little and she turned from the temptation in front of her. Severus needed her. And if she fed now, if she killed, there was no turning back from the evil. With clumsy hands, she finally lifted his wand, finding the strength of will to level the wooden instrument at Voldemort instead of bite into the boy. The abomination kicked her lover to the side, stepping forward himself, red eyes gleaming. Releasing a growl, he circled her, his own claws contracting, clearly no longer confident about her shaky intentions.

He lunged. She fired, uncertain if the anguished howl splitting the air belonged to him or her. She fell back to her knees the same moment he collapsed before her. Head bowed, chest heaving, she dropped the still glowing green wand and watched her hands gradually go back to normal. Threat eliminated. And suddenly she was caught up in Severus's arms and he was crushing her in a tight hold. "You did it," he breathed against her hair. "God, I don't know how…" his voice faded on a sigh. Tears slipped from beneath her closed eyelids and the liquid warmth rolled down her cheeks. Yes, she'd done it. She ignored the hunger, the pull, and mastered the beast inside. And her love was the key…

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A/N: Was it reality or a dream? Tune in next chapter to find out!

Next Chapter:

It felt like being slowly impaled with a butter-knife, perhaps less sharp but coming with an unbearable deep-down pressure before it finally broke the skin and kept going. And she damned her keen senses for multiplying it a hundred fold. She was dying, she knew it.


	22. Chapter 22

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

**A/N: **Next chapter is the last chapter. Where will this go? Stay tuned to find out.

* * *

**Chapter 22 **

"And this was just waiting for you on your pillow when you woke up?" the old wizard asked two hours later, sounding almost fascinated as he fingered the small silver key with an emerald at the crux. Hermione sighed, mentally rolling her eyes. Trust him to focus on the least important detail. "Yes. I saw it sometimes after I rolled off the bed, but-" "Any idea what it is for? A trunk perhaps?" he interrupted. "No, but in the dream, which really seemed more like a vision, Harry and Ron-" "And what do you suppose the key is in connection to?" She swore there was a twinkle in his eyes, though his head was turned and he seemed a bit distracted. Her fingers drummed on the desk.

"I don't know. But there could possibly be two deaths on the horizon, if not three. And that's not counting the body count outside the room where we fought." She finally got out, once again leaving out the parts involving Severus's declarations and what happened just before she woke. If the key was in relation to that, maybe she was better off not knowing at the moment. She still wasn't quite ready to deal with that. But Dumbledore seemed to put great stock in the stupid key, which annoyed her. There were so many other important things at hand. "Was there any other changes in the dream? You said there was something with your hair?"

Gritting her teeth now [was that _really_ significant?], she replied, "Oddly enough, my hair was short there and I'd been thinking of cutting it today." Her tone made the statement almost a sarcastic question, unsure of where he was going with all this. Wizarding Alzheimer's? His sudden expression change weirded her out and worried her at the same time. "And the scenery?" Dumbledore asked, sounding tired now. "Dark. Cold. I don't know. It was half in a dungeon, half one floor up. And I was more focused on the Dark Lord and my dying friends. Werewolves too. Oh, and the blood lust. What is this about, sir?" He sat back down, suddenly looking old beyond even his years. "The full moon is in five days and Severus has disappeared completely. So has Harry. Two days ago."

* * *

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed numbly. Time was running out. The refrain circled round and round in her head like a broken record. Logic told her she was just wasting more time sitting there in a daze, but logic wasn't even figuring in right now. If she was thinking straight, she might've realized that meant something. Irony. Not new to her. Why couldn't she remember more? No wonder the Headmaster was so focused on the little details. She was so stupid. And arrogant, blind, childish, etc etc. this was her fault, she concluded suddenly, feeling like a hard blow was dealt to her. For ignoring and avoiding them. For not acting sooner. General foolishness. Hiding out in that room and thus missing the news.

And let's not forget making everyone think she was missing too, even accidently. She caused this. She clutched her stomach, mentally going into a dark spiral. Severus and Harry [who likely thought he'd save the spy _and_ her] could be dead right now because of her. Maybe the dream wasn't a vision after all. They were probably dead and she was nowhere close. At least Ron was still here, she told herself, trying to breath normally again. She set up wards around his room and- Hermione bolted up quickly, eyes wild. The wards were going off right at that moment. Ron! Running as fast as she could, she still missed the mark. He was gone too. Her scream split the air, an odd pain crashing through her skull- then everything went dark. "Too late."

* * *

The first time she regained consciousness she felt like her insides were being torn up… and then torn out. The second time it felt like strips and chunks were being taken out of her and hot pokers were shoved in, all while chained to a wall. The third time she knew at least part of her dream had come to life; she was being carved up like a Thanksgiving day turkey, Harry and Ron were dead or dying, and Severus… Twin tears slipped down dirty cheeks from eyes that should've been too damaged to cry, blurring already fuzzy vision. At least she was alone this time and none of her tormentors were here to mock or punish her show of pain. Small mercies.

But what did it matter? She was dead anyway, wasn't she? That part of the dream had to be a lie. What hope did she have to escape? Especially in her condition. Two more tears trickled free. So what hope did the others have? Her two closest friends and her… what? Lover? Was that over-simplifying it? 'Mate,' sang through her mind. 'Love.' Oh God, she really did. She _loved_ him. She was so ignorant. And now he'd never know, would he? She'd never know for sure if he felt more than just desire or that strange fixation. She still couldn't believe he'd persisted. If she could ever get another chance… 'No,' Hermione told herself. She didn't need to do melancholy right now. And it didn't matter if he wouldn't have given her another shot. He was strong, loyal, sexy and commanding, and… she'd still love him.

Her eyes squeezing shut at the bright, burning agony shooting through her, she hung her head. and the weight of it seemed to bring her to the floor. The shock of her knees hitting the cold stone floor, hard, made her eyes crack back open. She was free of the chains. "How…?" she breathed, turning to stare at the steel cuffs in wonder. The move lanced her with stabbing pains, but it was next to nothing after the long days of torture and hope flared brilliantly inside her. Now she just had to find a way out of the cell to save her friends. And her mate. 'I can help,' her creature whispered, sounding a bit sluggish due to the blood loss but still determined, an echo of a dream.

Hermione cringed away from that voice out of habit. And she became all too aware of the hunger in the pit of her stomach. "No," the witch choked out. "I will not give in. I can't." She tried to stand, supporting herself on the bars, but failed miserably, crashing back to the ground and still bleeding. 'You can't make it alone. Our mate needs us.' Severus. Her expression softened. If she could save him… Her heart thudded painfully, breath still. "Yes," she rasped, two more tears falling. "Ok. Help me save them. Help me save _him_." All the air rushed right out of her as the slashed muscles and scorched flesh stretched, every nerve-ending screaming. But her throat was too torn from her tortures cries throughout her stay to even raise her voice now.

The blood in her veins [what remained of it] boiled, heart not restarting and causing panic to well. She clutched her chest, eyes wide, bones cracking… breaking…reshaping. Her gums peeled, cut and bleeding, fangs dropping. It felt like being slowly impaled with a butter-knife, perhaps less sharp but coming with an unbearable deep-down pressure before it finally broke the skin and kept going. And she damned her keen senses for multiplying it a hundred fold. She was dying, she knew it. Or was already dead and in hell. 'Severus.' It was a sob and a prayer. Holding on to it, on all fours, she shook and shuddered, but not another tear fell. 'I'm coming. No matter what, we will not fail.' The thoughts blared stubbornly where she couldn't speak, vision tingeing red and black as her hair grew around her like a funeral shroud.

If the last thing she ever did was break out of here to face the Dark Lord, she wouldn't regret it one second. If Harry could sacrifice himself for countless strangers, so could she. She'd always been the quiet, under-stated one who was quick with the brain power but hesitant [almost fearful] in battle. Afraid of herself, afraid of what the future might hold. But not now. And maybe she could finally learn to love herself too. So caught up in the tearing feeling in her limbs, she didn't notice the stinging glow coming from her region of her back pocket. But she did notice the heavy thud and high-pitched squeal of the cage's door swinging open.

Gaping, the pain ebbing, she touched her chest, for a second alarmed at the knocking before she realized it was her heart again. Then her hand went to her back pocket. The key. Love. Out of nowhere she felt like laughing. "And so it begins." Walking up the stairs painfully but confidently, she went to make the last part of her dream reality too. With one or two changes. This time she'd walk in whole, accepting of her second half, and two… A wicked grin spread over her face, elongated canines gleaming in the dim light. A long Death Eater leaned against the doorjamb up ahead, looking half-asleep. Her stomach growled. Two, she would be well fed.

* * *

Next Chapter:

The moon waned in the sky. She woke again- chilled. She was alone. The fire had died completely. Outside, the sun was beginning to rise high once more, lighting on all the shadows and stark imperfections. And it left her feeling empty. Had they all survived or was this some twisted version of hell? Had it all been simply another dream? Hopelessness reigned as Hermione quickly spelled herself some clothes, thinking maybe she should just leave-


	23. Chapter 23

**Animal Magnetism**

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

* * *

**Chapter 23 **

Having guiltlessly drained the robed man dry, a lot of the fatigue she'd been feeling faded and most of her wounds knit back up. And though there was still a slight feeling of her muscles being shredded and raw, it was almost bearable. Feeling the heavy fangs in her mouth as she traveled from the cellars to the main chamber, she tried prepared herself for the nightmarish scene she was about to face. But the few minutes she'd had wasn't enough. Harry impaled on a support beam, Ron broken and bleeding out on the floor by the Dark Lords' feet, four lycans on the adjacent wall, waiting for something. Only Severus' wasn't within their enemy's grasp but on his knees before him under the Cruciatus curse. Voldemorts' words were an inaudible hiss to her but they were not pleased despite the light side being down.

Hermione quickly calculated her odds. Not good, even if her love gave himself up early. The lycans were going to be the most immediate threat, with their enhanced senses and strength. And she couldn't mask her presence for too long in her condition, even though she'd fed. One turned her way, sniffing from across the room and as she panicked, her magic flared out with full body binds. She'd stolen her wand back from the guard with only slight damage to it. Hopefully no one noticed yet. She was tempted to run to her friends but knew it'd be a foolish move right away. She was running out of time, with the moon almost in position and no plan. But suddenly Severus looked up as if he could sense her, peering into the shadows.

She nodded to let him know she was okay, smiling briefly before glancing to Harry and tilting her head Voldemorts' way. His head moved a fraction of an inch, signaling back to her before cutting his dark gaze back to his former master. She almost wished she could hear what they were saying in low tones and hisses, but wasted not a second crossing the room while attention was averted. In a blink she pulled Harry from where he half-hung, casting a stasis spell then one for healing before his heart could stop. She blessed her catlike reflexes. Laying him to the ground like he just fell on his own, she spun and hid behind the pillar before the pair turned back around. Then she made her way up passed the frozen lycans… but froze herself when Voldemort lifted Severus up by the throat, squeezing as he slammed him into a wall.

Her own heart almost stopped, and she felt light-headed with worry. But his gaze found hers and seemed to urge her on. 'Oh God, he's gonna die trying to buy me time. That fool. Why?' _'That so-called fool loves you, and if you're smart you'll move your damn feet and save all of them,'_ a growl sounded from the back of her head. She swallowed heavily. _'Quick.'_ She leapt, sliding across the floor and pushing Ron aside with a shield spell seconds before knocking the Dark Lord over. Severus dropped with a thud and a curse but she gave him no time to stop her, just blowing him a kiss before rolling their enemy into the magicked cage in the corner. Not a second too soon too- because it seemed he was seized by the pains of transformation himself, fur sprouting along his leathery hide. While he was incapacitated she snatched his wand, tossing the broken stick out with her own.

"Hermione…" Severus started warningly, his wand trained on the shifting heap. She knew he'd try telling her to get out but she had no chance. And no desire to- she wouldn't allow him to hurt her loved ones anymore, and they had enough to worry about because she knew the binds wouldn't last long on the werewolves. This had to end now, whether or not she could use her magic here in the cage. And she was going to enjoy this. Just after his cue she was grabbed by the throat and lifted into the air with a snarl. 'Too late.' He was up- and stronger than ever. But so was she now, so her worry was not for herself. "Severus," she gasped, pointing. The bonds had broken, the lycans now fully transformed now the moon was high. Warning given, her claws were out. Game time. She sliced and kicked out, rebounding back. Two men enter, one man leaves. And it wouldn't be him.

* * *

She was having one of those dreams again. The good kind where she was safe and snug in her bed and Severus was kissing her and telling her how much he loved her… and then she woke up cold and alone. But at least she wasn't laced with deep gouges and sticky with blood this time… She jolted up, blinking and looking around. Wait… why wasn't she cut up and sticky? Her stomach dropped. She must've won. And Severus must've defeated the werewolves and rescued her. Warmth suffused her body as the memories did.

Fighting a monster-ized version of Voldemort in a magic cell made for his special creatures, clawing his flesh to ribbons one swipe at a time, being beaten senseless when she let her guard down, getting a few lucky jabs at Voldemorts' major arteries but bleeding out onto the floor from her own wounds… It all seemed so unreal. Did the last part really happen too then? Did he really kiss her and confess his love as he apparated her back to Hogwarts? Sighing, she kicked back the covers and stood up, pacing. She hadn't even told him herself yet. She had to- "Hermione, you're awake." That deep, silky voice floated from the doorway, surprised but pleased. She turned around alowly with a smile as a rumble heralded the storm outside.

Their gazes met and she gasped at the intensity, backing up a step as she felt her fight-or-flight mechanism kick into full, adrenaline-charged overdrive. He noticed the small retreat and something flickered painfully in his eyes. But his next words weren't meant to push her further, but draw her closer. They were frank and honest and heart-breakingly sweet. "It kills me, but I need you. I need to hold you, just for a little while. The emotion-it's smashing through me. Pounding through my body and my blood and my bones. Nothing in my life has prepared me to vanquish an enemy that lives inside me. I can't—I can't hear myself through all the noise."

He drew in a deep, shaky breath. "You calm the turbulence." "Yes," she whispered in response to his need, his desperate, silent question, her fear vanishing. "Yes, just for a little while." His entire body shuddered as he reached out for her and she went unhesitatingly into his embrace, breathing in his warmth. He touched her. It seemed all the heat in his body roared through his hands and stabbed through her skin. It entered every fiber of her being, spreading fire. But it didn't burn; rather, it melted. All senses fled and her muscles weakened. And suddenly the intensity didn't scare her anymore. This was what she'd been waiting for.

She did not resist when he drew her tighter into his arms. The appetite was immense, an implacable lust that could be sated only if they did not hold back. They needed to feast. He made a noise that was part moan and part growl. It had no words, but she knew what it meant: here lies madness, beware. So she'd been warned. She didn't care now. Especially not when he was touching her. And storms always left her feeling a little high and wild. "Severus." Windy fists, harbingers of that assault to come, struck the glass and stone, their power only slightly lessened by being diverted around the towers surrounding the castle.

"Hermione." Could he see that she hummed like a tuning fork? That her muscles had taken an electrical charge, drawing from the atmosphere of the room and the storm without, and they were begging for a chance to expend that energy? "Please." She didn't know who said it, if it was him, her, or them both at the same time. But she didn't care. She raised her mouth to his and it was like it was the first time. But maybe, in a way, it was. The first time _in love_. '_Mates.' _It was like kissing lightning. Power poured from his mouth to hers, mixing with her own divine fire and then rebounding, stabbing through their nerves where the charge redoubled.

His hands were cool on her skin, but not enough to stop the heat rising in her. No, not nearly enough, as her hands slipped around his neck. She could feel the lightning beginning to dance over her skin. The reaction was almost too intense. Her kiss turned harder, less refined, but she knew he didn't mind. He cradled her to him in the relative coolness of his body, accepting her heat- maybe even demanding it. She wanted to devour him, to climb inside; she was going to detonate, perhaps electrocute them both. The electricity dancing over her skin was visible now and pouring over him as well. She slid up his body, legs whipping around him as if thoroughly securing him against escape.

The tempest was on her immediately. There was a flash of light, a sheet of whiteness that passed down their bodies in both directions, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming when the shock threw her body into erotic convulsions. Eerie, incandescent light surrounded them. The soul-searing joy of passion was so intense she momentarily flashed back to a time when she'd been so sad and lonely it hurt to breath because every inhalation reminded her she was alive and in pain. And now it was so opposite, so much in contrast it was like another life. And maybe it was. His eyes, when she moved her head to meet them, were deep pools she wanted to jump in and dive to the bottom where his thoughts lay.

But even before she could do that, she knew it wouldn't be enough. Was this the connection the headmaster had spoken of? His hands moved over her body and the desire snatched her mind back from its reflections and immediately plunged her into an ocean of molten lava. She could almost see the steam rising from their bodies, the coolness of his body washing over her, penetrating her organs and limbs and saving her from the volcanic heat. Outside thunder roared, shaking the windows. He claimed her lips again, fiercer than before and it stole her ability to speak [though she'd be hard-pressed for words now anyway], to think, and for a moment breath.

She rocked against him, a siren call to her- what? Mate? Prey? At the moment she didn't care. His body was steely to the touch, and she knew he was exercising the same extreme restraint she was not to take him right there on the floor. Her fingers vibrated with the pleasure of touching him as they stroked over his flesh, kneading his muscles that fascinated her so. She loved the delicate articulation of them as they jumped under her hands. "How you fascinate me," he murmured. A small shudder passed down his body. "You look at me with those wide eyes that show your desire as plainly as the sun or moon and don't hide it. You're half afraid of me, yet I know when I touch you, the fires will rise again and you'll burn along with me. Do you know how rare this is?" She nodded her head and then quickly shook it.

"You fascinate me too," she said a bit haltingly, unable to find a way to explain the fierce longing and attraction he had always caused in her. "You've always fascinated me. Your words reached across the room to touch me that very first day, years ago, took my mind from grief and solitude. Whatever those rational, timid parts of me want, how could I do anything but go into the fire with you?" His black eyes shone like a night full of stars as he brought his mouth back to hers. She reached eagerly for the embers that blazed to life between them. Tempests of pleasure ripped through them, making their muscles quake and her heart stuttered as hurricanes of need laid her low. He pulled her in close and tightened his arms until she gasped then took her lips in a hard, almost desperate kiss.

The floor melted away from under her feet. Nothing remained but a swirling tornado of emotion, and they both stood in the middle, clinging to each other as a drowning sailor clings to a piece of driftwood. Heat boiled in her veins with the intensity of a flash fire in the forest and she clutched his shoulders when her knees threatened to give away. His tongue swept through her mouth, claiming it, claiming her, for his own, and he held her so close she couldn't miss the hard bulge of his erection pulsing against her exactly where she needed him. She moaned, or maybe he did, and she tunneled her fingers through the long silky waves of his hair and pulled his face even closer to deepen the kiss.

Nothing mattered but that he kept kissing her. "Two decades of need churning inside me. And only you could move me." An explosion of pure sensation sizzled through her body, sensitizing every inch of her skin. His response was so intense and skilled she believed her bones were turning to liquid silver in his arms and she was helpless to do anything but cling to him. He was so hot- a burning flame in her arms pulsing and consuming. He devoured her as if the kiss itself was the only thing keeping him from shattering into pieces and flying off into the storm of passion. Exquisite waves of ecstasy washed through her just from the touch of his mouth and hands on her, and she knew she should remember all the reasons why this was such a bad idea, but all she could think of was _two decades of need_. How can a girl resist that?

He lifted her completely off the ground, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her into a dark corner, pressing her back against the cool stone. She wanted to climb inside him, ride his hot, hard body until the desperate need was sated. Seconds later he was lifting her sweater, and before the first chill could even spark goose bumps on her skin, his hot mouth covered one nipple and his hot hand covered the other. He made a humming sound against her breast and it tingled, but before she could react he sucked so hard she cried out. She tightened her fingers in his hair, and he took it for the encouragement it was, apparently, because he began rhythmically sucking and flicking with his tongue.

She squirmed against him, the hot, liquid desire pooling between her thighs, opening and readying her for him. She wanted, she needed, and oh yes, he pushed that big hard bulge of his erection against her. And he began pressing back and forth in the same rhythm that his mouth used on her. A flash fire of sensation raced through her veins, and she was so close to coming, just from his mouth on her breast. So close, oh, how could she be so aroused so fast? And then he bit down gently and his fingers pinched her other nipple, hard, at the same time and she cried out. The heat, oh the heat! The sheer driving, pounding force of her need was climbing through her and demanding more and more. More of the incredible sensation. More of _him_.

She was nearly crazed with the wanting, it was so powerful. Never, ever had she felt anything even close to this before. Desperate, she pulled at his head until he released her nipple with a wet, sucking pop that she felt all the way to her toes. He looked up at her and his eyes were glowing black coals. "Tell me," he demanded suddenly. "Tell me what you want." "You," was all she could manage. "All of you." He carefully released her until her feet were on the ground again, and she had to lean back against the wall to hold herself up since her wobbly knees were not cooperating. Then he stared at her, his gaze sweeping from her flushed face and swollen lips to her breasts that were still bare and so sensitive every breath of air touching them built her arousal even further.

Then he dropped to his knees. And with a wolfish grin he stripped her skirt and panties down to her ankles. Before she could even take a breath, or think, or move, he caught her hips in his hands and put his mouth on her. At the first touch of his hot, clever tongue on her clitoris, she cried out again; and then she couldn't scream, couldn't even catch her breath as he licked her and sucked her and swirled his tongue around her until she was almost crying with pleasure. "Please, please, please," she begged, repeating the word until it was a meaningless sound, just a wordless plea. But he held back, held out on her. "Love you." It was both sigh and command, confession and challenge as they swam over her. Through her. "Love you," she half-sobbed, half- panted.

And then it didn't matter, she couldn't talk, because he put his fingers inside he and drove them in and out, in and out, and began sucking with the same rhythm and pressure he'd used on her nipple. Then mere seconds later, when the pressure and pleasure and passion rocketed through her body, she found herself suddenly being lifted higher, staring down at him, and slowly, slowly being lowered again… Impaled. "Mate." His eyes were on hers, narrowed, blazing inky fire. Shudders wracked her and she sobbed for real, the words wrung from her [How could he expect her to even think now?], "Yes. Always."

The sensation, so slow, was excruciating … and then it was suddenly bursting out the top of her head and she screamed, calling out his name as the most powerful orgasm she'd ever felt took her up and over and into the universe. But he kept drawing her… more slowly still, down, down, down… until she sheathed him completely. Caught in the moment, her head flung back, she bit her lip, eyes squeezed so tightly shut. 'Too much, too much, too-' He angled her hips, hitting…just… that… spot. Then _he _bit _her. _And she cried out again, hoarsely, spasming. 'Perfect. Oh God. So very perfect.' His movements sped back up, his grip tightening, and then he was exploding inside her, sweet liquid fire…. At that moment she was truly lost, drowning. And she didn't care one bit. 'Love.'

* * *

The next morning they spent talking. Heart to heart. Just sitting there, on the bed, half-dressed or worse, talking about the future. Feelings, plans, where they would go from there…. Stuff they somehow never got around to before. Important stuff. Stuff that desperately needed discussion. Especially after all the time she spent avoiding him, or having sex with him _then_ avoiding him. She knew this, she agreed with this, and yet… She couldn't focus. This was her future and she couldn't focus. Because all she wanted to do, now that she was awake and fed, was ravage him again. Ravage her man. Warmth suffused her body, a tingling ball of sensation in her stomach. _Hers. _And she was his.

She didn't have to run anymore, didn't have to fear. That was all she could bring herself to care about at that moment. _Hers. _And _His. 'Mates. Finally.' _"Tell me you love me again," she ordered breathily. Her pupils were dilated as she stared at him, growing dark with desire, and she licked her lips. He smiled; that slow, unbearably sexy, delightfully kissable smile. "I love you." The words echoed in her mind, shimmering in the air between them. He was touching her right now. His hand was on her knee, almost reassuringly, though she couldn't recall over what. Just that the touch did everything but soothe her. Just that it made her more hungry.

Her skin sizzled from the contact. He must've realized what he had done because his hand stilled, molding to the curve of her knee. Her breath caught, trapped in her chest as their eyes locked. Last night flooded back. Then his charcoal eyes took on an almost supernatural glow themselves, reminding her of polished stone. Her skin was warm where his hand rested. His fingers flexed over her knee. "But we should really go." The smooth expanse of muscled chest was irresistible to her hands and her fingers, unable to help themselves any longer rounded over his firm shoulders, curling around the bulge of his biceps. She'd behaved long enough. She'd tried to listen. She deserved this. She _needed _this.

All too aware of the deliciously wicked sensation simmering within her, she also keenly felt the stroke of his kiss, the barest brushing of lips, moving over her shoulder. "We should," she agreed, as his kiss ghosted down the length of her spine, his hand moving from her knee and up over her thigh. He came to the juncture of her thighs and she gasped, his fingers rubbed the moist folds through the thin cotton briefs. The fabric was soon damp with her desire. "Later," he growled against her mouth, wrenching the briefs free much as he had the previous night and sinking his member into her with one thrust. Filling her completely, he claimed her lips in a kiss at the same time, swallowing her scream. She felt boneless. Weightless, ravaged by hunger, yet fed as she never had been fed before.

They made love again. Perhaps she dozed; she wasn't sure- but they'd missed dinner again. Later, spent, she lay in the big bed and shivered as the fire of energy that had burst between them ebbed. Sometimes she thought she dreamed his touch, because every time she closed her eyes, she opened them to a new seduction. The sun was high and they were standing out in the middle of the forest talking… him smiling seductively as his hands ran temptingly over her curves and he kissed her softly, deeply, hungrily, teasingly... The sky growing dusky as they flashed inside, breath ragged as they tore each others clothes for a countless hundredth time as light flickered through the curtains. Back in his room after they very nearly got caught again, his lips dancing over her flesh and him seeming so fascinated just to touch her…

Gold and crimson flames seeming to leap and dance over them, touching her, warming her, bringing a buildup of heat and sensation that quickly set something ablaze within her. Then fire burned to embers. The moon waned in the sky. She woke again- chilled. She was alone. The fire had died completely. Outside, the sun was beginning to rise high once more, lighting on all the shadows and stark imperfections. And it left her feeling empty. Had they all survived or was this some twisted version of hell? Had it all been simply another dream?

Hopelessness reigned as Hermione quickly spelled herself some clothes, thinking maybe she should just leave- when her lover, her _lover _came out of the bedroom, towel drying his lovely, thick black hair. All the breath whooshed out of her body. It had been real this time. _He _was real this time. "Ready to go down to eat in the hall now, love?" he grinned at her, seeing her dressed but still slightly rumpled. "Yes," she breathed, dazed at the wealth of feeling on his face, in his voice. "I am, _my love_." 'And God, let this always be so perfect…'

**The End.**

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A/N: That was it, last chapter! What a ride, huh? I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i've enjoyed writing it. And I'd love to get your reviews!


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